Tabula Rasa
by AnnaChase
Summary: "It was over eleven years ago she had left the Wizarding World behind. The Order of the Phoenix had provided her with a new identity. A new identity she made her own, and by now it was her only identity. As she lived her life day after day, it was almost as if that other world ceased to exist. Like none of it had ever been real." [OC x Sirius] R&R much appreciated :)
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Welcome to this story! There isn't too much to tell in advance; the story will unfold and 'tell itself' , so to speak. Just a tiny note that this story belongs in the line of my other stories (Heart's Betrayal, Behind Closed Doors, Full Circle) in this line. Which means I took a tiny few liberties with the timeline. I postponed the final Battle of Hogwarts 3 years, this had to do with Harry's age and required maturity, and so on. Alas, for now I believe that is enough info beforehand to keep in mind :) Enjoy reading, don't forget to click the 'review' button :D

 **Tabula Rasa**

* * *

 _I can't go back to yesterday because I was a different person then.  
-Lewis Carroll: Alice in Wonderland_

 _London, 15_ _th_ _of July 2010_

 _Dear Professor McGonagall,_

 _First of all I would like to thank you for your dedication to reach prospective students. I have received all six of your letters. While I understand that in your position as Headmistress of Hogwarts you want to reach every student with magical ability, I regret to inform you that neither of my children will be attending Hogwarts.  
As you may know I have long since turned my back on the Wizarding World. Not only does it hold many painful memories I wish to leave alone, it also reminds me of my own time at Beauxbatons: a place where the free will of students is formed to fit that of the grand mass in a way that has made me very unhappy at the time.  
Through the years I have managed to build a life for me and my children in which we are all three of us very happy: I have every intention of keeping it that way. I hope you can understand my reasoning behind this decision. _

_Sincerely,_

 _Isabelle Harris_

Anyone with the slightest inkling of how magic worked, knew that a Hogwarts letter always reached its destination. She tried to at first, but one ignored letter brought another, and then two more twice within a few days time. The message was clear: a reply was demanded. And so Isabelle wrote a reply. It felt strangely familiar to tie a letter to an owl. Such a simple gesture brought along so many memories.

It was over eleven years ago Isabelle had left the Wizarding World behind. The Order of the Phoenix had provided her with a new identity. A new identity she made her own, and by now it was her only identity. As she lived her life day after day, it was almost as if that other world ceased to exist. Like none of it had ever been real. Only it was, and she could never truly deny that. Her son and daughter were the living reminders of how magic existed, and how it worked its ways most unexpectedly. Every day Stella and Sebastian's unruly, black curls and dark eyes reminded her of their father. Their fiery tempers were a souvenir of his too, undoubtedly. And now there was the Hogwarts letter.

She had known it was coming. The first signs of magic in the twins presented themselves early on. They were hardly two years old when Isabelle lost them in the park. They were like that; quick as water. She had only glanced away for a second, giving out directions to a lost stranger, when they disappeared. Isabelle had found them on the swings nearby, swinging higher than two year-olds should. She had been too far away to reach them, and when they both let go of the swing and jumped off, it was as if her heart had stopped for a moment. Much grander was her surprise when they made a very soft landing. Unnaturally soft. She had known, since then. No matter how hard she tried to deny it and leave that other world behind, she had known deep down she would never be able to. She had successfully ignored it for a while, until the letters started coming.

Professor McGonagall had replied to her letter within that same week. Her reply was polite, yet persistent. She had suggested a meeting in the Leaky Cauldron. Somehow, Isabelle had agreed. If she wouldn't, she knew more letters would follow. Or other ways to get in touch with her children. If this was what it would take, then she would go and explain her motives once more.

Diagon Alley. She had no trouble finding it. It seemed like yesterday it was a regular thing to tap the right brick in the courtyard with her wand- the wand she had always kept. For emergencies. Diagon Alley looked just like she remembered. And she immediately felt ill at ease in the crowd. Her red trench coat stood out against the many black-cloaked witches and wizards that passed her. Wizard fashion was still very dated, apparently.

The Leaky Cauldron was crowded mainly with families taking up a lot of room. They were probably shopping for the new school year. With a pang of guilt Isabelle suspected her children would be overjoyed with all the magical shops. But so far they didn't know what they were missing, and as far as she was concerned it would remain that way.

"Evangeline?"

She turned around automatically. And then to think she thought she had forgotten all about her old name, and her old life.

"Charlie Weasley?"

Of course. She recognised him immediately, even if he had aged visibly. He could easily be forty now, but he still had that boyish grin she remembered quite well.

"It's Isabelle now," she corrected him.

"Of course. We invented that name together," he grinned and showed her the way to an empty table by the window. "What can I get you to drink?"

"I was under the impression I'd meet Minerva McGonagall here."

"Ah, yes. Should have notified you," Charlie nodded. "She's very busy, being the Headmistress and all. There was an emergency at the school this morning with Peeves, he set fire in the hospital wing. Small fire only; he claims it was an accident. Poppy was all upset, naturally, and it has to be fixed before the new school year starts. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course," Isabelle replied, wondering who on earth were 'Peeves' and 'Poppy'. "And you know all this because...?"

"I teach now. Care of Magical Creatures. A year or two ago I got a pretty nasty injury from a Horntail," Charlie rolled up his sleeve, showing off some rather impressive scars. "I was looking for something to do while I recovered, and Hagrid retired at the time. One year only, I said. Still here now, though," he chuckled. "Might stick around for a while longer. How about that drink?"

"Do they still have Butterbeer?" Isabelle inquired, sitting down with a small sigh. It was hard to believe she was here now, after all these years. And no one particularly glanced her way. They must be accustomed to having muggles here; there were many muggleborn students, after all.

"Of course. Coming right up."

While Charlie disappeared into the crowd, Isabelle took the time to glance out the window. There was a shop selling brooms across the street. Once more she could not help but wonder how Sebastian would enjoy Quidditch. Or how Stella's eyes would light up at the sight of a real unicorn. This world held many good things. Magic could be a wonderful thing. It could be enchanting. Outsiders with a romantic view could easily picture this small street full of ancient, magical shops to belong in a fairy tale. She had grown up being accustomed to wands and Quidditch and cauldrons. She had enjoyed coming here as a child; staring for hours at moving toys, colourful potions and leather-bound books. And yet years later she had been so eager to turn her back on everything that defined this world. She had never looked back. Until now, when she was made to.

"I believe we should get down to business now," Isabelle said once Charlie returned with two Butterbeers.

"Your children," Charlie nodded, sitting down on the opposite side of the table.

"Yes, my children. And the continuing frequency of Hogwarts letters being sent our way. I've replied to McGonagall quite clearly: Stella and Sebastian will not be attending. Not this year, nor any year. I have my reasons."

"All right," Charlie leaned back. He seemed so casual. Much more than Isabelle; whose agitation was rising by the minute. "Summarize them for me," he suggested.

"I left this world behind."

"Yes. Your world. But this could be their world. Voldemort is dead, Isabelle. He's been dead for over a decade."

Her face fell at the mention of that name. She had heard, of course. They had sent her a message, just when she was adapting to her new life. It had cost her so much energy to start anew, and just when she was building something up she would have to leave it? She had had her reasons not to. She liked the clean slate. It saved her a lot of questions.

"Your children have powers," Charlie continued. "Unchanelled magic that has to be controlled. They deserve to know where they belong."

"They belong with me," Isabelle replied quickly, snappier than she had intended to sound.

"Of course, and that wouldn't change. But they're eleven: that's not too young to have a say in this. "

Isabelle knew very well what they would say. Once they would get over the shock, they would undoubtedly consider a magical world to be 'cool' or whatever fashionable synonyms they used. Hogwarts would be one big adventure to them. And then the questions would follow. They weren't stupid; they would want to know why she had kept that world a secret to them, while she had grown up there herself. And then they would ask about their father.

"They wouldn't know what would await them. I hated school." She was running out of excuses.

"Many kids do. Muggle kids, too, if I'm not mistaken."

"That's not what I mean. I remember the teachers at Beauxbatons as a narrow-minded bunch. You could like what they liked, or be a misfit."

"Hogwarts is not Beauxbatons. I dare say Minerva would be offended at such a comparison." Charlie's eyes twinkled with humour, and part of Isabelle wanted to laugh with him. If only this weren't so serious. It had taken her a long time to stand where she stood now.

"Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Durmstrang. Isn't it all the same?"

"I dare say it's not. And even so; Hogwarts hasn't stood still in the past few years. We go along with present times, although a certain traditional charm will always be maintained, I'm sure."

"I've made my point. I gave you a chance to change my mind, but I didn't." She stood up and reached for her handbag. Her heels sounded hollow on the wooden floorboards, but all she wanted was to leave this place behind and forget she ever returned.

"Wait, Evangeline!" He caught up with her just before the exit. "One last question."

She had to admit his effort was impressive. And sweet, although that depended on how much extra he was paid for this appointment. Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, she nodded.

"Do you carry a picture?"

"Of course." Her face softened somewhat; her pride of the children was bigger than any other emotion, and she never withheld from an occasion to show off her beautiful pair. She reached inside her bag and took out her purse, which held several snapshots of the twins. She took one out and handed it to Charlie.

"They seem like wonderful kids."

"They are," she beamed.

"If I may say so, the resemblance is striking."

Nonplussed, she held onto the back of a chair for some support. It had always been a challenge to pretend the twins looked like herself mainly. And where she lived now, no one knew their father. It had been easier that way.

"Oh?" she said quietly.

"Yes," Charlie nodded. "And I think Sirius would have been very proud of them."

They were blocking the exit: many people on their way out glanced their way. Isabelle hardly noticed it. All she noticed was how solid ground appeared to have pulled out from under her feet. She was lucky the chair she clung to was empty, and she sank down on it before she could really embarrass herself.

"When did you find out?" she whispered.

"I suspected for a while, but your picture confirmed it." Charlie sat down by her again, handing back the picture. "They deserve to know their heritage, Isabelle."

"I know," she whispered. All the energy she had put into her defense was gone, and she knew he was right. Like she had known he was right from the beginning.

She allowed Charlie to get her another Butterbeer, and she was glad for it. The warm drink helped her get over the shock, and brought her back to the present. Still, she hardly heard anything of the cheerful chatter Charlie attempted to put up. She was glad when it was time to leave; all she wanted was to get home and hug the twins as tight as she could.

"I should head back and see if Minerva's got it all under control at Hogwarts," Charlie grinned, extending a hand to her. "I'll see you and the kids at King's Cross, then? First of September."

"We'll be there," Isabelle sighed, and shook his hand. A small smile was all she managed.

When she arrived home at last and was greeted by the loud volume of the TV, she felt everything had changed in the past two hours. Like she was not who she was before, and the twins were not the ordinary muggle children she had raised them to be.

"Stella? Seb?" she tossed her bag carelessly into the corner and entered the living room. They sat together on the sofa, staring at a cartoon on TV. The coffee table showed empty tins of soda and wraps of half-eaten candy bars. They looked up endearingly guilty.

"Hey mum, " they said, mouths full of candy.

"Where's Mrs Sanchez?" Isabelle frowned.

"Her daughter called to say she was in labour," Stella replied when she had swallowed the candy. "But mum, chill. We're almost twelve, we can handle being on our own for five minutes."

To their surprise, Isabelle smiled and squeezed herself in between them on the sofa, kissing the top of first Stella's head, and then Sebastian's.

"Mum's gone mad," Sebastian announced.

"She might have," Isabelle agreed, wrapping her arms around them until they cuddled up to her on either side.

"Does this mean we can have pizza for dinner?"

They felt so warm against her, just like they had when they were helpless little babies. It still felt so right to hold them to her. She couldn't imagine she would send them off to boarding school within a few weeks time.

"We can," she nodded, not up to refusing them anything. "But let's turn off the TV first." She let go of Stella for a moment to reach for the remote, and end the loud and annoying cartoon.

"Why?" they both pouted.

"Because," Isabelle said. She watched them intently, first one and then the other. Charlie was right. They looked so much like him. It had been painful at first, but a great comfort later on. It was, as if she had kept him with her through the twins. And now it hurt so much, to send them far away from home. If they wanted to. But she knew they would want to.

She reached out to stroke their curls. Their dark, unruly, but oh so beautiful curls. "I've got something very important to tell you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

At eleven years old, Evangeline could rightfully call herself a student at Beauxbatons. At this time she was still very much a child: she wore her hair in two plaits, and she looked up to the older students. The school was every bit as beautiful as her mother had told her it would be. The floors and staircases were of Italian marble. Everything was decorated in silver and blue; even the students fit in, with their blue silk uniforms.

Although Evie's heritage was a mix of France (her mother) and England (her father), the school she would attend had never been up for discussion. Her mother, a spirited lady and sole heiress to a grand fortune, had always said no school was as charming as Beauxbatons. She glorified her own days there as a young girl, and seemed convinced the strict rules would tame her eldest child. Evie's father, Maximillian Foxworth, was very different. Unlike his wife, who was used to devoting her life to society, he devoted himself to Healing. As a bright young Healing-student he had fallen in love with Joséphine Cavallier; the only daughter to one of the wealthiest Pureblood families in France. He had met her while he did research in Paris, and they had been inseparable ever since. Their match was always seen as an unlikely one. Maximillian was very clever but his family was not wealthy, nor very well known in society. This had never stopped the young lovers, though, and they married within the year –delightfully ignorant of their families' protests. Together somehow their differences worked, and young Evie grew up with the Pureblood traditions on one side, and her father's more realistic view of the world on the other side.

She had always been a very serious child. Her mother was not very generous in showing affection, but she was the apple of her father's eye. Whenever he was home she was with him. She loved sitting on the rug in the library while he worked. She could stare for hours at the mature, leatherbound books. But most of all she loved the grand piano that stood in the middle of the hallway of the family's manor.

As a very young child she had devoted herself to music. It was encouraged at first; her mother greatly approved of raising her daughter the classic way: education, dancing, and music. She had a private tutor and was taught the basic skills of reading, writing and arithmetic, followed by history of the Wizarding world and her ancestry. Ballet was important for her posture and grace, and a musical instrument was simply deemed becoming for a young girl. That changed, however, when Joséphine noted her daughter's interest lay mainly with the piano instead of with her education. A mild interest was fine, but a professional interest, even at such a young age, was embarrassing to say the least. After all: people might think Evie's lack of interest in magic made her a squib. Evie's music was probably the only thing her parents ever argued about. If it weren't for her father's doing, she would no longer have been allowed to play at all. Maximillian saw the true joy his daughter got from playing. He knew denying her it would hurt her more than a young child could handle. And so Evie played, and played. And then came the day she would leave for Beauxbatons.

She had been there for three months now. In a way, she had fun. Evie never had trouble finding friends. The first eight years of her life she had been an only child, so she was used to having to go out to find friends to play with. Some girls in her year were snobbish, but there were a fair few she got along with just fine. Most of the lessons were interesting, too. Evie was a clever girl that had no trouble following along. Of course she had yet to prove herself in the exams to come at the end of term, but the first impressions overall was good. The worst problem were the teachers. Many of them pretended to be nice at first, but Evie quickly discovered they expected everything to be done their way. And to think their way. Unfortunately there was only one thing Evie hated more than being told what to do: being told what to think.

"Eva, are you coming?"

She turned to watch her two best friends, Odylle and Juliëte, waiting for her at the end of the hallway. There was a Charms class to attend.

"Five minutes," she promised them, drawn to the white piano by the window. She did not get to play as much as she would like to here at school. Not that Beauxbatons was music-less; there was a choir, and feasts were accompanied by a small orchestra. But it was all just that. Musical instruments often played themselves; the art of music reduced to a simple spell.

Subconsciously she took place on the piano stool. Her fingers , unstoppable, flew over the keyboard almost without thought. She didn't need sheet music. This was all she ever needed. She deemed herself alone, in her own dream world where there was only this. Some of the mean girls at school called her a pretend-squib, but that wasn't true. Evie liked magic. She liked this world, too, for it held many miracles and good things. But she wished it wasn't so narrow-minded. Why not have magic, plus a muggle-hobby? As far as she was concerned, there was magic in the piano, too.

"Evangeline!"

The magic was lost, and Evie abruptly ceased playing. Her teacher, Madame Délacroix, looked as angry as she had when the entire class failed the first ever test on her subject, Transfigurations. All students were most likely afraid of her, because of her eyes: an icy sort of blue that seemed to melt anyone they turned on. It did not help she was so tall she towered over everyone, including the older students.

"I was under the impression your class was supposed to be in Charms at this hour."

"I... yes," Evie stammered. She knew she was being stupid, coming late for class while she could have easily prevented it. Sometimes it was as if her mind just left her alone and caused her to do silly things.

"Then, what are you doing here?"

Teachers loved rhetoric questions. Evie suspected they only used them because they made the students uncomfortable.

"Playing piano, Madame," she finally answered.

"Would you rather attend a muggle school, Evangeline?"

Some day she would say yes. When she was older and more sure of what she wanted. Then she would say yes and enjoy the look of shock on her teacher's face. For now, as an eleven- year old without much choice, she could only shake her head.

"No, Madame."

"Very well," Madame Délacroix nodded, appearing pleased. "Now hurry to class before I change my mind."

* * *

 _1998_

"Mum, I think she's waking up."

"Good, it's about time she actually tastes something of my chicken broth."

Evie struggled to open her eyes. Strange voices had roused her from a seemingly deep slumber. The first thing that hit her was pain. A head-splitting head ache that seemed to affect even her stomach.

"I think she's about to throw up," said the younger girl's voice.

"Oh good heavens, Ginny, just hand her a pot."

Briefly, Evie opened her eyes. Her mind was covered by a thick fog; she had no clue where she was or how she got there. The room was dimly lit and she did not appear in immediate danger. There were two red-headed women standing by her bed. One young, the other older. Mother and daughter, possibly. She was in too much pain to think about that. One of them helped her sit up. Her stomach played up immediately. She could lean to the side just in time to vomit on the floor, rather than on the bed sheets.

As she struggled to sit up, she managed to utter a few words of apology. "Sorry about the carpet."

"That's all right dear," said the older woman, who took her wand from her apron and cleaned the carpet with a single flick. "How are you feeling?"

It was a good question. Despite the pain, she was not so sure. Confused could be a decent answer. She had no clue how she got here, or even who these people were. Tired would be an answer, too. Just the effort of sitting up had left her exhausted. Quickly she allowed herself to sink back into the pillows.

"Head ache," she managed.

"I'm sure, dear, you hit your head pretty hard. Ginny, get her some more of that potion will you? I left it on the left kitchen shelve."

When the girl, apparently named Ginny, left the room, Evie turned to older woman. "Where am I?"

"Goodness, you don't remember anything, do you?" she fidgeted nervously with her apron.

Evie, alarmed now, brought herself up to a sitting position again. It made her dizzy, but she ignored that. There was something wrong. Forcing herself to think of her last memory, she started to panic. "I need to know."

"I'm Molly Weasley," said the woman, sensing Evie's panic. "You're with the Order of the Phoenix, at Headquarters. You're safe with us. Do you know who you are?"

"Evangeline," said Evie, slowly, settling somehow. She knew who she was. "Call me Evie, or Eve, whatever. Anything goes."

Right at that moment Ginny returned with a small, silvery potion. She handed it to Evie, who did not hesitate to drink greedily. It couldn't make her feel worse than she was now, and if it helped she might be able to think harder and remember.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Molly inquired.

"I don't know..." Evie shook her head. It felt like something very heavy was pressing down on her chest, alarming her something was wrong.

"It's all right dear, you've got a concussion. You were in freezing water for Merlin knows how long, it was a miracle Tonks and Remus found you in time. It was no surprise you became so ill, the fevers took you out for almost a week."

A week. Freezing water. Fevers. Somewhere along the line, Evie had missed something entirely crucial. Her last memory...

" I remember graduating," she started, encouraged by Molly's nods. "I studied piano in France. Came home, I remember coming home," she paused, clutching her hands around the teacup Ginny had handed to her. "My parents hosted a party for me. A stupid party, because I didn't really know anyone of the guests. Except my mum and dad, of course. And my little brother."

Molly looked very serious, and turned to send away her daughter. "Ginny, go check on the preparations for dinner, will you?"

Ginny left after only a slight protest, but Evie hardly noticed.

"They're dead. Aren't they?" she whispered. It had hit her when she remembered the party on her parents' yacht. One moment they had all been looking their best, drinking champagne and talking of the future. And then suddenly, they had appeared out of nowhere. Dark cloaks. Green flashes. _Avada Kedavra._ Deaths.

"I'm so very sorry, dear," Molly sat on the edge of the bed and took Evie's ice-cold hands in her own. "We were all so very shocked. There must have been a leak in the security somewhere."

Evie pulled away from the offered embrace. "I'd just really like to be alone right now," she whispered.

Molly stared at her as if in doubt whether it would be safe to leave her alone, but nodded eventually. "Of course. I'll be right down the hall if you need me."

Dead. Her mum, her dad, and Sébastien, her little brother. He was just fourteen. He wanted to become a Healer, like their father. They couldn't be really dead. It had to be a misunderstanding. And how could she not have remembered?

When she was certain Molly's footsteps had disappeared down the corridor, Evie sank back down. It was so much to take in, she felt empty. She wanted to cry, scream, tear down these hideous curtains across the room, but when she opened her mouth no words came out. No tears came out, either, no matter how hard she tried. For once in her life she wanted to be normal and react like anyone would. She curled up in a ball, hugging her knees to her chest in her attempt to stop shivering. She laid there, unsure how much time passed, waiting to feel. She was still waiting, long after the sun had gone down and the room had gone appropriately dark. And she was waiting still when Molly returned, offering her dinner she wouldn't eat. Molly brought a sleeping draught, too, for which Evie was terribly grateful. She could not drink it soon enough, welcoming the few hours of oblivion with open arms.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Please Read  & Review, it's very appreciated! I understand the story calls up a lot of questions, but I assure you, all blanks will be filled in!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

When she next woke up Evie felt disoriented at first. She had no clue what day it was, or even what time. It was dark, but a house like this was always dark. Panic-stricken she poked around, finally discovering her wand on the nightstand.

" _Lumo_ s," she whispered, immediately illuminating the room somewhat. She was alone, and so it must be night. At daytime, Mrs Weasley hardly left her side. It was sweet, but also annoying: Molly kept looking at her as if expecting her to break down. Her concerns were slightly suffocating. Whilst there was every reason to break down, she couldn't do that in front of strangers. The Pureblood upbringing had made sure of that.

Throwing the blankets off her, she got up for the first time in days. Her legs felt like they had been Bat-Bogey-Hexed, and she had to hold herself up by the edge of the bed to remain standing. For the first time in days she felt less feverish, and her mind was not one big foggy place. Feeling better physically was a strong contrast to the rest of her. A clearer mind meant she could no longer shield in the comfortable dream world that had welcomed her almost constantly since she arrived here. A quick glance around the room told her Molly's medicine was nowhere in sight. She would have to go all the way down the stairs to the kitchen to fetch it. Several unsteady steps brought her uncomfortably close to the mirror on the wall. Her appearance had changed so much in a week time she barely recognised herself. Her face looked gaunt and sallow; her hair was in desperate need of a wash, and she appeared to be wearing one of Molly's old nightgowns; oversized and frilly.

"Great," she whispered in a horror-struck state of amazement. "Maybe the medicine won't be enough to help me this time."

The Order of the Phoenix, a rebellion movement, must surely have a decent drink in store somewhere? Considering the time of night and the lack of any noise inside the house, she figured everyone must be asleep; the perfect time to explore. She tucked her wand away to support herself with two hands while she descended the stairs. She then quickly learned Grimmauld Place 12 to have so much doors it seemed impossible to find her way. First she entered two toilets, then something that looked like an unused dining hall, and finally; the drawing room. They might as well keep their liquor here.

It was hard to say how many people inhabited the house exactly. She had only met Molly and her daughter, and her illness had made it impossible to even show any sort of interest in possible other inhabitants. There were many voices, though. Voices everywhere, and footsteps running up and down the stairs. Enough evidence to figure out the house was crowded.

Without much thought Evie wandered into the drawing room, only to discover –much to her shock- that she was not the only one there. There was a black-haired man sitting at the table. Recent experiences may have caused her to take Mad-Eye Moody's phrase 'constant vigilance' to heart, so that she drew her wand on this unidentified stranger without awaiting his defence- or attack.

"I swear I'll hex you!" she exclaimed, adrenaline taking her back to that night not so long ago, when her defence had been too slow.

The stranger, undoubtedly a well-practised duellist, had drawn his wand in defence within a second.

"What do you think you're doing!" he reacted while they stood facing each other, wands drawn.

"I could use an Unforgiveable," she panted, although she was not so sure. The moment was drawn out, and the stranger hadn't attacked. It was only now that she noticed how bad she trembling- it was a miracle she hadn't dropped her wand. Some duel.

"I'm sure you could," the stranger reacted, not unkindly.

Somewhere in these few moments they stood there, doing nothing, it dawned upon her she had misjudged the situation entirely. This man was not a Death Eater. She should have known the Order's security would not have let a Death Eater through without anyone noticing. And even if it had; why would he be calmly reading the newspaper?

"I'm the hysterical girl with the wand, that doesn't dare use it," she whispered, dreadfully ashamed, as she lowered her wand.

"I'm Sirius," said the man, lowering his as well. He sounded so amused she got the impression he hadn't been really frightened by her threats at all.

Evie seemed to consider her options. Turning around and running off crossed her mind, but she ought to be more mature than that by now. So, she hesitantly extended a hand. "Evangeline. Evie."

"Nice name," Sirius said, shaking her hand.

"I eh," she stammered. "I don't normally hex strangers on the first meeting."

"That's okay," he grinned, sitting back down and motioning for her to join him. "You were quite convincing."

"I doubt that." Evie sat down, and she spotted the bottle on the table with interest. "Is that what I think it is?"

"FIrewhiskey. This is first class stuff," Sirius nodded, refilling his own glass. "But I'm not sure you should be drinking..."

"Oh please. I think I have every reason to be drinking."

She thought she could do it, safely address the situation, but her mouth twitched, dangerously close to getting emotional. He must have seen it too, for his face fell.

"Evangeline.."

"Evie," she corrected.

"Evie," he continued. "I've heard what's happened to you. I'm very sorry. We'll make them pay, the bastards." He poured her a full glass of the liquor.

She took the glass and wrapped her hands around it. She wasn't really used to drinking such strong liquor. With a French mother she was used to wine, but this was a different story entirely. Bravely she took a sip. It was so strong it burned down her throat, causing her to cough. It was a pleasant sort of burn, though. With her head so full of depressing thoughts, it provided a welcome distraction.

"What are you doing up at this hour?" she whispered finally, when she had regained her voice.

"I'm not much of a sleeper," Sirius admitted. "Azkaban leaves its imprints, I suppose."

"You were in Azkaban?"

"A grand total of twelve years. I'm surprised you're not running yet," he said. "Usually the name Sirius Black rings a bell or two," he chuckled. "Not that I'm complaining."

"I was about ten twelve years ago, wasn't that interested in the news," she shrugged, thinking the name did sound familiar now that he mentioned it, but she wouldn't have been able to put her finger on it.

"Aren't you wondering what I did to land myself there?" he inquired.

"You're with the Order of the Phoenix, so it can't be worse than what the Death Eaters did. Did _they_ put you there?"

"In a way, you could say that," he agreed.

Evie stared at her now nearly empty glass. It was nice to talk about someone else and distract herself, but her attention span was short and she quickly got back into her gloomy mood.

"I had no idea it was this bad, the war," she said quietly.

Sirius just stared in the flames in the fireplace. She wondered what he was thinking of. The war left everyone with more losses than good for them.

"I studied abroad for a few years after I finished school, and I guess the censorship in the papers kept the news behind. I don't understand, though. My parents, they wrote to me often. But they never mentioned how bad it was.."

"They must not have wanted to worry you," Sirius suggested. "It's pretty noble of them."

"Pretty stupid, more like it," she snorted. "If I knew, I could've come back sooner.."

"And do what?" he questioned. "I'd say you were better off elsewhere. I knew your father, he was a good man. Brave. A finer Healer, too. Took out Mad-Eye's appendix right on the kitchen table. With Voldemort closing St Mungo's for muggleborns and blood traitors we need people like that on our side."

"Right," Evie downed the remainder of her glass and held it out for a refill. He was right of course. She had hardly believed it when she came back to England and discovered her father quit his job as an act of open rebellion. His whole life had been about that job.

"So what did you study?" Sirius inquired, refilling her glass as requested.

"Piano." Evie's face lit up slightly at the change of subject. "In Paris. Among muggles," she chuckled at the surprise on his face. "I'm not a squib, don't worry."

"It never even crossed my mind," he assured her. "Why piano?"

She was starting to feel the effects of the Firewhiskey. For the first time in days she felt completely warm, in a comfortable, sleepy sort of way. It lightened up the world and made everything just slightly less terrible. It made this less weird, as well; drinking with someone she never met before.

"It was really the only option for me," she replied. "It was all I ever wanted, and pretty much all I was good at. Growing up Pureblood I was lucky to study anything after Beauxbatons. My father didn't want me to get married right away. He wasn't so old-fashioned, now that I think about it," she smiled at the memory. "Also; I wouldn't have settled for marriage, anyway" she grinned.

"I'm sure," Sirius chuckled.

"I was so happy when I graduated. Thought I'd come back here, and get a job. Teach some spoiled kids, seemed fun enough. Perform, maybe," she shrugged. "I guess nothing really went as planned... There's no job; no demand in the war. And there's nothing now, really..."

Suddenly it was starting to dawn upon her she was full of self pity. She ought to have realised the alcohol would have that effect. Abruptly, she stood up. Unfortunately she was not very steady on her feet. She held herself up by the table in an attempt to keep some of her dignity.

"I won't bother you any longer. It's late, I should go to bed."

Sirius watched her, amused. "Of course. Goodnight, Evie."

"Good night," she said, heading back in search of her room. What she had noticed before, was magnified again in her tipsy state: all doors were alike, and there were too many of them. She tried a few- hesitant in her fear of waking up Order members- and was soon completely at loss of which she had tried. Surrendering to her weakness, she went back down the stairs. This was a challenge in itself, and she was glad she was able to find the drawing room again.

"So," she started awkwardly. "I'm not lost, or anything."

Sirius, now no longer suppressing his laughter, luckily got up quickly. "It's a miracle you made it up the stairs," he wrapped an arm around her back to steady her as they climbed the stairs together. "You must be exhausted. Here we are," he said when they entered what indeed appeared to be Evie's room.

"I'm really sorry about all this," she murmured, dropping down on the bed, indeed very much exhausted. After the fevers she had, even being up for an hour was a challenge. "I'm normally much more fun."

"Trust me, you were fun enough," Sirius chuckled, stepping over to cover her with the blankets.

Evie curled up in a ball and shivered. The wind was howling outside, and in a draughty old house like this it was clearly noticeable. Sad weather, and very suitable to how she felt most of the time. It had been wonderful to be distracted, even if for such a short time. Suddenly, she didn't want Sirius to go. The thought of being alone again with all these depressing thoughts and memories was more than she could handle.

"Do you think you could fetch me another blanket?" she whispered, clinging to this excuse to prevent his departure.

"Sure."

It was only a short while he rummaged through the wardrobe in search of another blanket, and returned to put it over her. "Good night, then," he said.

"Please don't leave me alone," she whispered finally, unable to prevent a tear rolling down her face. And then to think the last time she was afraid of the dark must have been almost twenty years ago.

"Oh dear."

She felt the bed creak as he sat down on the edge of the bed, to tuck her in more securely.

"I should have never given you Firewhiskey to drink. Molly will kill me. Don't worry, I'll stay here until you sleep," he assured her, reaching up to stroke a strand of hair from her forehead. "I know how dark the nights get when you're alone."

Evie listened to him talking. The comforting cadence of his voice caused her drooping eyelids to fall shut. She struggled to stay awake, but the urge to sleep was too strong to fight. For the first time since she got here she fell asleep feeling somewhat more safe. Her dreams were chaotic and surreal as only dreams could get, but at least they were dreams and not the everlasting torture of insomnia.

 _2010_

Platform 9 and ¾ was full of excited children and their families already when Isabelle arrived with the twins. Both Stella and Sebastian's faces carried the inspiring promise of adventure. As Isabelle had predicted, they had been delighted at the idea of attending a magical school. There had been shock at first. Shock accompanied by many questions she was not ready to answer all at once. Letting the twins in on the past was like opening Pandora's Box; it brought back many memories, both good and bad, and let her doubt every part of the life she had so carefully built.

"All right, have you got everything? Trunks? Owl? Everything else on the list?" she asked for what was probably the tenth time. She was more than a little nervous about sending her children off to boarding school. She had never been long without them, and it was such a long time until Christmas.

"Yes mum," Stella said impatiently, standing on tiptoe to see everything going on.

Isabelle was glad to see there were more muggle parents present. Even if she wasn't one herself, it made her look less out of place. They looked just as nervous and uncertain as she was, and lacked the traditional cloaks wizards still appeared to wear.

"We're going to check out the compartments!" the twins announced, dragging their heavy trunks along towards the train.

"All right, but come back here after! It's still early, we need to say a proper goodbye!" Isabelle called after them. She sure wouldn't need to worry about them getting homesick.

"Evie?"

Already on edge, Isabelle turned sharply to see what old acquaintance had the nerve to disturb this moment focused on her children.

"I thought it was you," smiled the black-haired man with round spectacles.

"Harry Potter," she stated quietly. "Long time no see," she extended a hand.

"A very long time," Harry agreed, shaking her hand.

She found it rather awkward to run into the man that saved the Wizarding world so many years ago. She'd gladly used the Order of the Phoenix's protection when she had needed it, and never got in touch after. Also; she had his godfather's children without telling him.

"So where are your children?" Harry inquired, seemingly sharing her feelings of awkwardness.

"Checking out the train," Isabelle replied. "They'll be back soon. How did you know...?"

"I figured you're not here to attend Hogwarts yourself," Harry gave half a smile at his unsuccessful attempt of a joke, before he added the truthful answer. "Charlie told me. Did you know he's a teacher now?"

"I sure do," she nodded, smiling vaguely at Charlie's successful attempt to convince her to let the twins attend. "So, you being here, does this mean..?"

"Yea," Harry said quickly. "My eldest daughter's going to be a first year, so they'll be in the same year," he beamed, seeming excited at this prospect.

Harry Potter, with a child old enough to attend Hogwarts. Isabelle remembered him as barely more than a boy.

"Here come the little monsters," she smiled, noticing the twins running their way again.

"Mum, we found a compartment with other first-year kids!" Sebastian announced. "We already put up our trunks there!"

"That's great," Isabelle smiled, reaching out to straighten Stella's hair. "Now say hello to mister Harry Potter."

When she told the twins, more or less, the history of the magic world, she had made sure they knew enough not to stand out with their lack of knowledge. They knew all about their father now, but also: Voldemort and the war, the Order of the Phoenix, and Harry Potter. And so supposedly meeting Harry Potter in real life after all those stories made this about as close as it would ever get to meeting a superhero.  
Harry and the twins stared at each other intently. It was a special sort of moment. Had Sirius been alive, they could have been practically siblings.

"Is it true you killed a basilisk when you were only twelve?" Stella broke the silence.

Harry, holding back a laugh, glanced up at Isabelle with surprise. She shrugged. "I filled them in on the stories."

"Apparently," Harry chuckled. "And yes; it's true. But that was a long time ago," he told the twins. "I'm pretty boring now." He shook hands with each of them. "You should meet my daughter, though," he leaned in closer to underline the conspiring moment. "She's a lot more cool than I am. Go on and say hello."

The twins curiously followed the direction Harry was pointing at. A young girl with plaited black hair stood about to board the train. She was accompanied by another black-haired little girl that looked about six years old, and an elegant blond lady that Isabelle suspected to be their mother.

When they had ran off to meet the Potter children, Isabelle turned back to Harry. "I might owe you an apology. You did so much for this world, and I never showed myself anymore."

"I'm sure you had your reasons," Harry said. "You owe me nothing."

Isabelle smiled, glad to hear he was still as easygoing as she had met him to be twelve years ago.

"I only have one question."

"Go ahead," she nodded.

"Did he know?"

"No," Isabelle quickly replied. "I didn't even know. Not until it was too late, to tell him..."

"Why didn't you come back? I could have helped you. We all would have helped you."

She thought there was a tinge of hurt in his voice. "I'm sorry, Harry. I wasn't myself at the time. There was a lot going on for all of us. You were busy enough at the time, I think."

"Yea, I suppose that's true," Harry finally agreed. "Do you want to come and meet my family?" he inquired then. The pride on his face was endearing, and Isabelle couldn't bring herself to refuse.

"I sure do."

She followed him to the dark-haired girls and their blond mother, whom Isabelle spotted now was quite visibly pregnant. She looked familiar, but Isabelle couldn't quite put her finger on where she had met her before.

"This is my wife, Lucia," Harry introduced her. "And my daughters, Zara and Felicia. Girls, this is Evie. She's an old friend."

"Isabelle," Isabelle corrected. This drew some funny faces from Lucia and the girls, which she chose to ignore. "How do you do? And congratulations," she smiled at Lucia's visible baby bump, before she shook hands with each of them. Harry sure had a nice family. She couldn't help but feel a hint of regret at her own loss. She should have had a nice family like that. She would have, under other circumstances. Muggles were just as judgemental as she remembered the Wizarding world to be. Pregnant without a man? Then the woman had to be a slut. They didn't care enough to look beyond that first impression. Had anyone bothered to ask she would have told them he had loved her. Maybe they would have married, eventually. But the point was; she didn't know. They never had a proper chance at happiness together. And now it was too late.

"Mum, we need to get on the train!" Stella exclaimed in delight when the platform was becoming more and more empty as the Hogwarts Express got ready to depart.

The moment came much sooner than Isabelle could have prepared herself for. She forgot all about the Potters for a moment when she crouched down to embrace both her children at once.

"Mum, you're not going to cry are you?" Sebastian protested against the embrace. He and Stella both thought eleven was way too old to be hugged by your mother.

"Course not," she assured them, bravely swallowing these treacherous tears. She needed to be stronger than this; they weren't babies anymore. She was going to have to let them go eventually. Breathing in their lovely scents one more time, she kissed both the top of their heads before releasing them.

They were more than eager to start this new adventure; joined by the Potters' daughter they ran off to board the train. Isabelle was glad they had each other, and that they were so close. No matter what would happen, they would never be alone.

"I'm sure they'll be all right."

Isabelle turned around to the Potters, and was glad to see Lucia felt the same as she did about sending her child off to boarding school. She had the little girl by the hand and seemed very busy not to look sad.

"At least you're not left empty-handed," Isabelle grinned at little Felicia.

"Why don't you join us for coffee? We were going to make a stop at the Leaky Cauldron," Harry suggested while they all lined up to wave at the children in the train, which was steadily picking up speed.

It took Isabelle a moment or two to realise he was talking to her. And expecting a reply. "Oh, that's very nice," she said absent-mindedly. "But perhaps some other time." The last thing she wanted right now was to make happy conversation. Especially not when it was most likely going to be about 'the old days'.

They watched quietly as the Hogwarts Express became smaller and smaller, until it fully disappeared from sight. Right now Isabelle just wanted to get home, curl up on the sofa with the cat, and surrender to a night of self-pity. Tomorrow life would go on as always. Her teaching job at the local music school would provide the necessary distractions, and maybe she would even come to enjoy the freedom the twins' absence would give her. But she already knew that most of all she would miss them. Since their birth the twins had been the centre of her world. Missing them was like missing a crucial organ. But they were going to have fun, and be happy. This would be good for them. They could learn more about their heritage and learn to control the strong magic she knew was inside each of them.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Harry inquired. She must look worse than she thought.

"Yes," she smiled. "And it really was nice seeing you again. Maybe we'll see more of each other if the children get along."

"That'd be great."

She knew she would have to face them again eventually. And really; it shouldn't be a big deal. She had always liked Harry and the rest of the Order of the Phoenix. And Sirius had loved Harry like a son. He would want him to know his children, she was sure of that. She thought she could pretend this world didn't exist. For eleven years she had done a very good job at that. And now this world was here, and as real as it would ever be. Her children would fit in without too much effort; they were flexible as children ever were. She would have to fit in with them, for they were too big a part of her to miss anything.

"Isabelle?"

"Yes?"

"They really look so much like Sirius. It's incredible."

She smiled, proudly. "I know."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"Are you insane?!"

It was the Christmas holiday of Evangeline's last year at Beauxbatons. The question came from her mother, who currently resembled an oversized toad about to explode. Evie had never seen her more enraged, or more despicable.

"Yes," she responded haughtily. She was packing a suitcase for a trip to Paris, and her mother could do nothing to stop her. She was seventeen, and she had her whole life ahead of her. A life that did not include rules of the Pureblood regime. She knew them very well, these pretentious young ladies that visited their house regularly to serve as a role model to her, the rebellious daughter. Their life was devoted to society, and hearing them talk was like listening to ' _The Handbook of Pureblood Marriage'_ recited, while behind each other's backs they expressed the foulest of gossip and spared no one.

"But you will miss the party!" her mother exclaimed, thinking this the most convincing reason to stop her. Funny, how Evie thought the audition at the conservatoire in Paris colliding with Cotillion was perfectly timed.

"Exactly," Evie replied contently, snapping her suitcase shut at that. It was heavy; not only stuffed with clothes she may or may not wear, but also with endless scores of sheet music.

"I know your plan, mother, and I hate to spoil it," she said. "You're hoping I'll meet some ghastly rich diplomat that'll sweep me off my feet and distract me from my " _disgraceful muggle hobby_ ". But I have news for you: I have a life and I intend to use it, instead of sacrificing it for the sake of your gossip friends!". Furiously she picked up her suitcase and stormed down the stairs.

"If you think your father and I will spend a single galleon on that... that... _Muggle_ school you're wrong! Many girls would be grateful for the life you lead here, and they would live an _appropriate_ life!"

At the front doors, Evie stood still to watch her mother follow her down the stairs. With every word leaving her mother's lips, Evie detested anything she considered 'appropriate' more and more. Her determination to get through the auditions grew, if it could grow any further.

"What are you doing?"

Both women turned their heads at the sound of a little boy's voice. Sébastien, Evie's nine-year old brother, had undoubtedly overheard their arguing and came out of his room. His clothes were full of suspicious looking stains, which meant he had probably been experimenting with his Potions kit again. He couldn't wait to start Beauxbatons in two years time, and already he wanted nothing more than to become a Healer like their father. He was an amiable boy with impressive charm, and if anything he was the one thing that made Evie doubt her intention to leave this house. She was eight when he was born. His birth finally rewarded the Foxworths' wait to welcome a male heir. Malcolm and Joséphine never expected to have a second child after years, and so a codicil had been added to Malcolm's will stating in the absence of a male heir Evie would inherit. Highly modern in the traditional Pureblood world, where males came before females and in the absence of a son it was not unlikely a distant cousin would inherit. Sébastien's birth changed Evie's perspectives in that regard, but she had never minded it one bit. She had doted on her brother from the very first day; the age difference too large to evoke the jealousy and rivalry present in many sibling pairs.

"Nothing," she assured the boy, stepping closer to ruffle his hair and plant a kiss on the top of his head. "I'm only clearing the way for you."

Before she had a chance to register his nonplussed expression, or her mother's flaring up rage, Evie had collected her suitcase and walked out the door, thinking if the conservatoire in Paris turned her down this whole scene would have been for nothing.

 _1998_

"So, you were always quite the rebel weren't you?" Sirius grinned.

Theirs was another shared moment of insomnia, and Evie had the insatiable urge to tell these stories that had never seemed meaningful before. Right now they were of utmost importance. She was the only one to make sure their lives had made imprints, that they had all really existed. That they had been good people, and she had loved them, despite everything.

"Quite like you, I think," Evie said. They were smoking, fogging the entire kitchen of Grimmauld Place. She hadn't smoked since her first year of college, but trauma's called for the resurrection of forbidden pleasures. Anything to get through the day. Or night, in this case. Evie's health had improved, but sleeping was a step too far. Tonight was not the first night she had sought out Sirius's company since their first meeting. At daytime she still stayed in her room, intimidated by the presence of many, but at night when she came down for a change of environment, he was always there. Haunted by nightmares as dark as hers, if not more so. She knew it was a bad idea. Anyone could imagine where these nocturnal meetings were going, after all. He was much too old for her, and it wasn't hard to guess her mother would have thought a prison-escapee, whether he was guilty or not, was a bad catch. But her mother was dead, and she was desperate in her loneliness.

"I suppose," Sirius nodded, taking a drink of Firewhiskey. "James was the true rebel of the both of us, though. He was always in for anything," he smiled at this obviously fond memory. Evie had soon learned about the late James Potter.

"And your reluctance to go along with it was grand?" Evie chuckled at his grin of admittance, and leaned over to take the bottle of Firewhiskey and drink straight from it. He didn't say anything about her alcohol consumption, and she was glad for it. It was the only thing that numbed the pain just slightly, and made her relax.

"I should get back to bed. See if I can sleep some," she suggested, but remained sitting.

"You should, it's late," Sirius agreed, equally passive to leave.

"Sirius.."

"Eve."

"I'm really grateful you listen to all my rambling," she said with a hint of a smile, finally rising from her chair. "I'm sorry if I bored you tonight."

"Not at all," he assured her, getting up as well to walk her to the staircase. "You were amusing as always," he grinned.

She so liked it when he grinned like that. It made him ten years younger, and she could glimpse the careless young man he claimed to have once been. Without thinking, she leaned in to kiss him. She wanted to kiss him and make him smile all the time.

The kiss, if it could be called that, did not last longer than a second or two. He pulled away, much too quickly to her liking.

"This is a really bad idea," Sirius said.

Resisting the urge to run off in humiliation, Evie sighed. "Why? I didn't think I was a bad kisser."

"You're not." There it was again, that grin. "You're not," he repeated, his face falling as he turned more serious. "But I'm too old for you. And you're hurting. I shouldn't take advantage of that."

"What are you, sixty?" she crossed her arms in defence of his non-argument. "And even if you were, I'm not some Hogwarts school girl if that's what you're afraid of. I'm of age, and I make my own decisions."

"I noticed that," Sirius smiled vaguely, and reaching out to cup her face in his hand. "My defence is crumbling, you know. I wouldn't want you to do anything you regret."

"I never regret anything," Evie whispered, leaning back against the wall. He was right, she wasn't herself at all, but all she cared about was not being alone, and having him hold her and kiss her. She would see what she thought of all that tomorrow.

Unable to argue against that, he leaned closer, his hands fitting perfectly around her waist, his forehead leaning against hers. She could feel his warm breath against her face, reminding her of smoke and Firewhiskey.

"By all means, take advantage," she whispered, sending whatever doubts he had left down the drain.  
He kissed her, then, in the way kissing was meant to be. Tentative at first as they explored each others' lips and then tongues, quickly growing in passion. Evie's blood ran faster than it had in a long time, and she finally succeeded in thinking of absolutely nothing except Sirius and his perfectly skilled lips. It wasn't long before she had her legs wrapped around his waist and let him carry her up the stairs to whichever of their rooms was nearest.

The next day Evie learned once again why it was a bad idea to use Firewhiskey as a medicine. Her head was pounding from the instant she opened her eyes to a very awkward moment. Sirius had snored, looking not in the least affected by what her mother would have a called an 'act of utter thoughtlessness'. And that was discretely put. Evie wasn't sure how she felt exactly, but awkward summarised things nicely. Not that she hadn't enjoyed the night of passion. On the contrary. She had enjoyed it much too much for a girl in mourning. Now that her parents were dead, their values appeared to weigh down on her all the more, and she didn't think she had ever felt more guilty.

Cowardly she had gathered her clothes and hurried out the room before Sirius could wake up. And, the one good thing to occur that day, she was back in her own room before Molly dropped in to say good morning. No matter how much Evie assured her she felt better, supported by the thermometers which proved her fever-free, Molly still seemed to enjoy treating her as 'the patient'. Evie's current hungover-look would certainly do nothing to prove her wrong. But alas; letting Molly think she was ill was much better than admitting she had had a night of drinking and careless sex.

"Good morning, dear," Molly came in cheerful as always. "Goodness, you look a bit peaky," she announced after a single glance. "How are you feeling today?"

"Let's just say I've been worse," Evie assured her with a small smile. She kept wondering if Sirius was awake yet, and what he thought of her running off like this. And; what on earth would she say to him once they ran into each other again? Which would undoubtedly happen. The house was big, but not that big. And she couldn't hide behind Molly forever.

"I've brought you some breakfast," Molly announced, putting down a plate that undoubtedly smelled delicious, but was a bit too much for Evie in her current state.

She blinked, not giving in to her protesting stomach. "It smells lovely, thanks," she smiled, bravely taking a bite.

"You could use another plate of fried eggs or two, you're still much too skinny," Molly protested. Luckily before she got the idea to actually go down and fetch them, she was distracted by a different message she wanted to bring across. "You should come down and meet my son today."

"Oh?" This was not the first time Molly mentioned her sons. By now Evie had met most people in the Order, including the army of redheads that were the Weasleys. They were all too red-haired and freckled to be able to tell them apart, so it remained a mystery which son she was currently referring to.

"Yes, Charlie. You haven't met him yet. He's just come back from Romania. He works with dragons," Molly explained, the pride in her voice obvious. "Death Eaters are gaining influence there, too, so he wrote the work was becoming impossible. And of course we can use all the hands we can get on our side."

"That's for sure," Evie agreed, taking another bite of toast with scrambled eggs. Were she in a better state, it might have tasted superb. Molly meanwhile busied herself making the bed, but cast a glance her way now and then, undoubtedly to see whether she thought this 'Charlie' to be impressive. Before things could get really embarrassing, Evie got to her feet and announced she was in dire need of a shower. She really was, which made it slightly less ungrateful to cut off Molly's tales. She owed a lot to the woman, after all, but it was hard to feign normality while she had Sirius's scent all over her.

Going downstairs was a challenge each time. Wherever she went, it was always full of people. And people were the one thing Evie was not quite ready for. They sent her too many pitiful glances, or asked questions she had no clue how to answer. 'How are you?' was one of these questions. She was sure they meant well, but no one was waiting for a reply that said it felt like a dementor was breathing down her neck constantly.

"You must be the long-awaited Charlie." In the kitchen she found a small group pouring over a book that looked ready to fall apart. Charlie stood out by his roguish appearance; his look was weather-beaten and his muscled arms were full of scars undoubtedly caused by the dragons Molly had mentioned. Others in the group Evie recognised were Remus Lupin, Tonks, purple-haired today, and Mad-Eye Moody; grumpy and concentrated as always.

"Long awaited by you?" Charlie grinned, extending a hand.

"Your mother, more like it," Evie chuckled, shaking the hand. "I'm Evie."

"Charlie," he nodded. "I heard about what happened to you. I'm so sorry."

Why did everyone have to mention that? She tried with all her might not to focus on what happened to her family, but they were making that exceptionally hard. Not that it was easy to begin with. On the other hand; if they said nothing, she might consider them insensitive. It came down to it that she was probably not the easiest person to be around right now.

"I want a word with you," Mad-Eye interfered their introduction. His magical eye glanced around the kitchen before clearly settling on Evie.

"All right," she blinked, in surprise.

"In private." Again, the magical eye went across the room, scrutinising everything.

Joined by Tonks, they went into a room that must serve as some sort of an office. There was a desk in the centre piled with various volumes of books and scrolls of parchment. The walls were covered by bookcases filled not only with books, but also used as a coat rack with cloaks and hats hanging off the sides.

"Are you going to send me away?" Evie suggested the only thing that came to mind. She'd been here for over two weeks now, and besides from making use of their generously offered hospitality she had done absolutely nothing. Nothing to be of use to them, while they must be in desperate need of more allies. The thought was more frightening than she would have thought. Without The Order, she would have absolutely no one left here in England.

"Don't be silly," Tonks said kindly.

"Would you want to leave?" Mad-Eye dropped down on the chair behind the desk, while Tonks settled on top of it, shoving some books carelessly to the side.

"I haven't got a clue, to be honest," she said honestly, not taking the offered chair. She preferred to stand.

"Let's just put it bluntly," Mad-Eye started.

"He likes to do that," Tonks added.

"You're dead," he continued, not in the least distracted by Tonks. "Those Death Eaters had a list that night of who was to be killed, and you were on it. What do you think of that?"

"I think I look pretty darn good. For a corpse."

"Right you are," Tonks chuckled, obviously pleased, while Mad-Eye merely quirked an eyebrow. Maybe it was too early for humour. Or merely he wasn't very humorous at all.

"So you couldn't leave," Tonks continued to explain the situation. "When they find out you're not really dead, they'll want to finish the job. They're like that, unfortunately," she grimaced. "So you could stay here."

"In hiding?" Evie crossed her arms. She hadn't given it that much thought. Part of her mind had been convinced that once she was recovered enough she would return to her parents' house. But now that might be off-limits. The thought of staying locked up in this old house was depressing to say the least, especially when she would be as good as a prisoner, even if not in name. "Is there an alternative?"

"Certainly," Tonks said brightly, exchanging a glance with Mad-Eye's magical eye before announcing said alternative. "We can provide a new identity for you."

"A Muggle identity," Mad-Eye clarified.

Evie paused to give it some thought. Some would say she had a Muggle identity already. She had lived among them for years during her time in Paris. But she had had her family to go to during holidays. Everything had been balanced nicely. Something told her it wouldn't be like that this time.

"We have some resources that can help pull it off. All the paperwork. These Muggles have awful loads of paperwork, you wouldn't believe it!" Tonks said, forgetting for the moment that she had experience there. "Of course the choice is up to you. But we gave it some thought and figured it would be safer for you. The Wizarding world is much too small to really hide, and since you blended in with Muggles before..."

"I'll do it," Evie said impulsively. Sirius crossed her mind, but he shouldn't be a leading role in this. One night, what had that even meant? If she stayed in this dark house without being able to get out when she wanted to, she would go crazy. It would choke her. She wanted to go on, even if she had no idea how.

"Really?" Tonks blinked. "That's brave."

Mad-Eye, not the one for small talk and endless praises, seemed intent on explaining the downside of it. "It's not some holiday, mind you. You'll burn all your ships behind you. Sever all ties. No contact, now owls, no floo network."

"I think I get the picture," Evie said quietly.

"Do you really think you could do it?" Tonks inquired. Her face showed the obvious: she'd never leave this world behind no matter how much her life depended on it.

"It's not like I've got anything left to lose."

"Of course it would only be until the end of the war," Tonks said.

The two women exchanged a glance, and they both shared the same thought: this war was turning out to be a never-ending story.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : THanks for reading this far! Don't forget to review, it makes me update faster :D xoxo


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

* * *

 _Bright flashes of green illuminated the sky. 'Avada Kedavra' echoed all around. Screams, cries and pleas, before everything was silent but the maniacal laughs of the Death Eaters. She watched it all from the water, hiding behind the reed. Jumping overboard had been a reflex, miraculously unseen in the massacre that was going on. The water was ice-cold, the satin of her gala dress much too heavy now that it was wet. It was tempting to allow it to sink her down to the bottom of the river, so that her journey might follow the one her family had undoubtedly started. She had seen them die. Caught in a moment of surprise. She would never forget the frozen look of happiness on her little brother's face when he was among the first to die. He had been so delighted he was able to attend the party and stay up late. When the masked and cloaked figures appeared out of nowhere he seemed to have thought, for just a second, they were part of the entertainment. He was dead before he could learn the truth._

The cold was too much, she was out of breath, her chest heaving with the effort to suck in oxygen while the river and the storm were more than ready to consume her and tear her down to nothing. She saw the Death Eaters roam the dead bodies on the boat, seeking for wands and valuables that might be of use to them. Rage engulfed her, adrenaline pumping through her frozen limbs until she could no longer suppress the scream of terror building up inside of her.

"Evie!"

Someone calling her name. Did they find her out? She thrashed helplessly, struggling against the water pulling her down, taking her breath away. Now there were hands on her shoulders, a strong grip, and she thrashed about harder to fight free.

"Evie! Wake up, you're screaming!"

Suddenly she came to, opening her eyes to the dimly lit bedchamber as she sat bolt upright. Tears streamed down her face as she gasped for air. She could still feel the burning sensation of the water choking her. Her body was shaking hard, her heart beating so fast, pounding in her chest so loud the whole house must be able to hear it.

"It was just a nightmare, everything's all right." Sirius embraced her tightly, pulling her trembling form against his chest. "I'm here. You're safe now."

The dream had been so vivid, so real. It was watching them die all over again. Unable to calm herself she gave in to the series of sobs that escaped her. The night was so dark, the storm outside so frightening. She'd never been more grateful not to be alone.

"There you are," Sirius soothed her when she was too exhausted to cry any more. He laid her back down on the pillow, covering her up with the blankets as he placed a kiss on the side of her head. "Let me get you some water."

While the bed creaked as Sirius stood up to head into the bathroom, Evie curled up in a ball under the blankets. Her body was covered in cold sweat, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't stop shivering or her teeth chattering.

"I-it was so real," she stammered once he returned and helped her sit. She wrapped her hands around the glass of water, forcing herself to drink so that her throat might feel less like sandpaper. "I could feel it. I really thought I was back there..."

"I know," Sirius climbed back onto the bed and held her to him . His hands caressed her hair, his body warming hers as he joined her under the blankets. Her back to his chest, his warm breath against her ear. Slowly she came back to her senses.

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep anymore," she whispered, enjoying the feeling of her body slowly warming up. Her heart rate slowed down finally as well, her eyes falling closed. Still she was too scared to attempt to sleep again. She would rather suffer insomnia forever than have another vivid nightmare like that.

"That's all right, we can stay up," Sirius responded calmly, stroking the bare skin of her shoulder. Somehow she had landed in his bed again this night, and the night before, and the night before that. Whatever they had didn't need an explanation. They just needed each other. They didn't tell anyone, but Evie didn't doubt everyone in the Order knew exactly whose bed she slept in at night. But even if they did, they said nothing about it. Not even Molly.

"It's my fault they died," she whispered, not ready to let the horrors of the night go. They were everywhere, these ugly thoughts. They haunted her the moments she had been ready to believe she could experience happiness again.

"Really," he remarked dryly. "You cursed them? You used the Killing Curse on them?"

"No," she admitted. "Of course not."

"Then don't be ridiculous, Eve." He pushed her over so that she laid facing him, her eyes opening to stare into his.

"I should have done more to save them," she breathed, torn between her exhaustion and the urge to explain how it was. How she felt. How she needed him to deny it.

"How could you? Any sound and they would've noticed you. You don't fool Death Eaters, you should know that by now." To seal his words he pressed his lips to hers. Not passionate as before, but gentle. Then he kissed the remainders of tears off her cheeks. "There," he said. "Don't let them destroy you."

She closed her eyes in the knowledge that she was safe at least for the moment. As long as they could lay here like this. "Why don't you join me?" she whispered then. Suddenly the thought of starting a new life without him seemed as bad a choice as staying here. Such a short time, and already she couldn't imagine how it was not knowing him.

He didn't say anything for a long time, but now there was no place to hide. His eyes betrayed the truth before he could explain. He couldn't leave. This was who he was.

"Harry," he said, and she understood. Harry Potter. The boy who must live.

Gathered around the table in the drawing room, Evie studied the many documents spread out there. She was with Tonks and Charlie Weasley, who had been put in charge of creating Evie's new identity.

"You wouldn't believe these muggles and their paperwork!" Tonks exclaimed, knocking over a jar of ink for the second time that after noon. "How do they find time to do all these other things they don't have magic for? Imagine doing laundry by hand! Or dishes," she shivered visibly.

"They have machines for that, you know," Evie chuckled. She was glad to see she had one step ahead in her new lifestyle having lived among muggles during her college years.

"Machines!" Tonks shivered once more. "Pretend magic. They must break down all the time. On the other hand; my laundry-folding charms are a disaster too, I guess it comes down to the same thing," she shrugged. "Muggle or wizard, I'll never be a good old housewife."

"You wouldn't be half as fun being a housewife," Charlie assured her with a grin before he turned his attention back to Evie. "What do you want your new name to be?"

"I need a new name?"

It caught her off guard. Leaving everything behind her was one thing. Changing every vital part of who she was was another entirely.

"Well yes," Charlie said. "Should You-Know-Who try and find you using your name would be the most foolish thing to do. That, and keeping your hair colour."

"What's wrong with my hair colour!" Evie reached for her brown hair. Now that she had regained her health and gave it the attention it needed, it was her favourite trademark again. Hanging all the way down to the small of her back, it was a lot of work to keep it as silky soft as it was.

"Absolutely nothing, except that you're safest looking less like yourself," Charlie explained. "It doesn't have to be a radical change. They might expect you to do that."

"Shame, I was looking forward to having a pink haired friend," Tonks chuckled, changing her hair from purple to pink without any visible effort.

"It's just hair," Charlie added.

"Just hair?" Tonks grinned. "How did you feel when your mother cut off your hair on Bill and Fleur's wedding day?"

"All right, all right, I get the point," Charlie chuckled.

"I have an idea, I'll be right back." Tonks hurried out of the room, knocking over the infamous umbrella stand in the hallway as she went. To top it all she set off the portrait of Mrs Black, which screamed insults to muggleborns and blood traitors.

"Is it like that every day?" Evie inquired, blinking at the noise pronounced by a single portrait.

"Afraid so," Charlie smiled, pouring over the papers again. "Don't worry, we'll have these things ready for you in no time."

"Have you done it before?"

"Not me," he shook his head. "It's a bit of a challenge after all my dragon adventures, but Tonks knows the way. She learned during her Auror studies. And so does Mad-Eye, of course. I just hop in where I'm needed."

"That's great," Evie smiled. "I just hope I'm not bald by the end of it."

"I wouldn't worry about that," he laughed. "But for the record, you'd look good with any hair, I'm sure."

"I'm not really in the mood for flirting." Evie smiled weakly. She was flattered by the attention, but her affair with Sirius was inappropriate enough under the circumstances. She wouldn't want to throw someone else in the mix, or give off signals. Besides, he wasn't her type.

"Of course," Charlie responded, hurriedly coming to his senses. "What was I thinking. I'm sorry, Evie."

"It's quite all right."

"I'm sure you're nowhere near thinking amorous thoughts."

"That's right." Was it her imagination, or was there an undertone of irony in Charlie's remark? Whatever it was, they were saved by Tonks hurrying back inside the room with numerous copies of Witch Weekly in her arms.

"This is what I had in mind," she announced, dropping them onto the table. The top one spoke of the latest fashion in hair styles. "Some of these would look great on you I'm sure. Who says you have to be a Metamorphmagus to change appearance?" she beamed. She seemed really excited about this 'project'. It must be a welcome change from all pointless research the Order was doing. Evie wanted to join her and be glad she could leave this dark place behind. The people were friendly, but the idea she couldn't set foot outside the door was choking her. But there was Sirius. Every time she thought of leaving him behind she felt sick. She wouldn't tell him. There was no point making this any harder than it was already. He was loyal to the Order and would always remain so, especially as Harry's godfather. A short-term affair wouldn't change that in the least.

"What do you think of this one?" Tonks held up a picture of a young witch with redbrown, shoulder length hair.

"It's fine," Evie said without barely more than a glance. She wouldn't be bald, and she wouldn't be a platinum blonde. All her requests were granted. "I'll ask Molly to have a go at it." Rather Molly than Tonks. By the way Tonks knocked over ink jars and umbrella stands, she wouldn't dare to hand her a pair of scissors.

"Now all you need is a name and we can get the papers in order," Charlie concluded, sounding more agreeable than before.

"I'll give it some thought." Evie stood up. She was tired of all these plans she would rather not go through with. "I'm off to bed." She couldn't help but wonder if Sirius was done doing his research with the others by now. She would think about names and Muggle passports in the morning. What she needed right now was something to take her mind of things. Something, or someone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

The final year of college was always the most exciting. Students that had no clue whether they would make it through, suddenly became the most determined. Some made an unexpected leap for success. And others figured out what they may have known all along; they weren't truly cut out for the life of performing arts. It all came down to the final performance. After all the theory and other less important practical tests, students were to show their personal masterpiece in the school's performance concert; the crown on their graduation. Such a trial awaited Evie this summer, as well. Four years of musical education in Paris, and the line between Muggle and wizard society had blurred. She had formed friendships with those she had been raised to think were 'very different' from her. And perhaps the greatest lesson during these years was that in fact they were not. With the exception of the ability to perform magic, Muggles and wizards were equally intelligent, social, and kind. And sometimes they were equally mean, annoying or repulsive. The common denominator 'people' was what counted, and Evie found it so hard to believe many wizards grew up with the idea of being superior to Muggles.

Whenever she visited home during the holidays it became apparent that her mother was still very against her current way of living. Her father was different in that regard. He had always supported her on condition that she made well-thought decisions. Evie did not doubt he would have preferred to see her chase a more wizardlike career, but he appreciated the passion she put into her music and had made sure she knew that her happiness counted more than anything else. And so the traditional Healer was much more liberal than expected. It was a shame he could not convince his wife to let go of her narrow-minded focus. Mother and daughter grew apart, and what remained was a painfully distant relationship. On her way to independence, Evie made sure to let everyone know she could not care less what her mother thought of her lifestyle. The harder she tried to sport a rebellious attitude, the more she really needed some approval from the most important woman in her life. According the Joséphine Foxworth, her daughter was unruly and stubborn. She did not doubt she spent her free nights engaging in obscene acts with various young men. The truth was less radical. Apart from Evie's flight from the Pureblood regime, she was actually considered relatively well-behaved in compare to some of the other students. Of course she liked to go out on her free evenings, but mainly she was very serious about her studies. She practised piano many hours a day, studied for theoretical subjects, and made sure she was well-rested enough for the most important classes. The poly-amorous activities her mother suspected were highly exaggerated as well. She had boyfriends, now and then, and by the end of the first year she could no longer pass as a 'Pureblood virgin bride', but she had her standards, and a one-night-stand was certainly not what she was looking for.

The day before her grand performance Evie stood on the edge of the 'Gare du Nord' station, where her family would arrive by portkey. Summer had started, but it was a chilly late after noon. It had been a long day, but she was pleased with the hours of practise she had managed to put in. And now she was excited to finally show her family her dorm and the school she had spent the past four years. Checking her watch for the hundredth time in the past five minutes, she concluded it could not take much longer. Nervously she paced the small area again, and again, until finally two figures appeared so fast they may have appeared out of nowhere, clinging to an empty Coca Cola bottle.

"Father!" she beamed at the sight of him, throwing herself into her father's open arms. So much for telling herself twenty-two was too old to hug one's parents.

"Hello there!" the older man grinned widely at the sight of his daughter and spun her around in the embrace. It seemed too long they had seen each other. Evie had been too busy to come home for Easter, so it must have been Christmas.

"And Seb! Haven't you grown tall!" Evie let go of her father to embrace her little brother, who quickly pulled away from something as embarrassing as physical contact with his older sister. Still the now thirteen-year old boy could not help but grin at the reunion with said sister, whom he secretly found rather 'cool'. Living alone in Paris seemed an awfully big adventure.

Once Evie had let go of the both of them, she was left to acknowledge the third figure to be missing. Of course her mother's absence had been the first thing she noticed, but she was too proud to admit it made such an absence. "Is Mama not well?"

Her words were met by a rather awkward silence, in which Sébastien was suddenly very interested in graffiti on the walls, and her father scratched his head absent-mindedly.

"She didn't want to come," Evie concluded. It was expected, of course. Still she had allowed herself to hope that it would be different now. She had imagined her mother would overcome her prejudice against Muggles and looked beyond that when it came to her only daughter's graduation.

"This is difficult for your mother, Evangeline," Malcolm attempted to explain his wife's behaviour.

"Of course," Evie said grumpily. How very difficult to grab a portkey and spend some time with your child. She vowed at that moment that, would she ever have a child of her own, she would allow it to make whatever choices it wanted. And she would support it no matter what.

"So," Malcolm smiled, a little awkwardly. "Do you know a nice place for us all to have dinner?"

Knowing the city like the back of her hand, Evie knew just the place. She took both to a grand café she often had dinner at with friends: cheap and noisy, but with decent food and wine. Her father looked strangely out of place with his glasses and long coat, a picture of sophistication amongst the hip Parisian students. Evie had to give him some credit for his flexibility. It seemed he was really making an effort to see her world, rather than suggest they eat at a five-star restaurant.

"So are you nervous about tomorrow?" he inquired once he had gotten over the shock that the wine was both affordable to students –and- drinkable. "What is it you'll be playing?"

"Not really," Evie replied truthfully. She had prepared well, and was mainly in denial that tomorrow would really be her last performance for the school. She didn't doubt she would be on the verge of a nervous breakdown tomorrow though, her family's presence making everything more momentous than it would have been already. Of course they had heard her play before –the grand piano at the Manor was hardly ever unoccupied when she was at home-, but an official performance was a different thing entirely. "I'm playing Débussy, it's a classic."

"Isn't everything you play?" Sébastien asked with his mouth full of pasta, upon which Evie sent him a grin, and his father a glare.

"I'm certain it will be absolutely lovely, dear," Malcolm assured his eldest child. He appeared to mean what he said, which was more than Evie could have ever hoped for.

After dinner and a quick evening walk through Paris by night, they parted their ways. Evie's dorm was too small to host the both of them, and so they were headed towards a hotel. It was not very late, but Evie wanted to do some last bits of studying. It was hardly her father and brother's first time in Paris, anyway. Malcolm had once spent some time studying in France himself, and since his wife was French they had always made frequent trips. Even to young Seb a trip was always pleasurable, but barely a novelty. He had done all the traditional sightseeing at a very young age. Still, Paris would always remain a city with a special meaning through their heritage.

"Sleep well," Malcolm kissed his daughter goodnight once they reached the hotel. "Don't worry about tomorrow."

"I won't," Evie assured him with a chuckle. She wouldn't tonight, anyway. "Have fun at the hotel. I hope you booked a Jacuzzi," she messed up her little brother's hair playfully. He avoided the kiss she aimed to give him skilfully.

It was only a short walk back to her dorm. She enjoyed the cool breeze; it was more than welcome after a few glasses of wine. Sometimes she worried for Sébastien. Without her he had no one to protect him from their mother's old-fashioned ways. He was a darling boy, but she was unsure he would have the guts to stand up to things as she did. She would have to believe she had softened up her father enough to make sure his son was allowed more freedom without having to revert to such radical ways. Seb seemed happy enough, fortunately. She missed having him around. Once she was back in England, she would see more of him. Graduation brought along a whole new world to look forward to. For a while Evie had considered staying in France, but she had eventually decided against that. She missed England, as strange as that sounded to someone who had been in such a rush to leave it four years ago. She missed every part of English charm, sometimes even including the dreary weather. Hopefully she would be able to find a job quickly. A teaching job was her most likely option, and why not? She liked children, and she didn't think she would have a lot of competition. The Wizarding world didn't have many professional pianists, and there were enough Pureblood parents wanting to add some cultural aspects to their children's upbringing. Once she had the job, she would hopefully be able to rent an actual apartment of her own.

She had agreed to meet her father and brother at their hotel for breakfast. The nerves had kicked in after all, and she could barely eat.

"How are things at home?" she finally asked. Last night had been all about Paris and her graduation. And, admittedly, she had been too upset by her mother's absence to even think of home at all, but now she was couldn't help be curious.

"All is well," Malcolm responded quickly. Too quickly. Was it her imagination, or did a shadow pass over his features ?

"It doesn't appear so well," she remarked. She got the distinct feeling he was trying to keep something from her. Counting on her brother's ceaseless spontaneity, she turned her gaze on Sébastien. "Seb?"

"Don't pull your brother into this," Malcolm interfered. "We simply didn't want to upset you on such an important day."

"You could have upset me yesterday," she suggested, the edge to her voice clearly audible. She hated it when there were things going on behind her back. "Is it Mama? She's not ill is she?" Despite her anger, the idea of bad news regarding her mother was enough to put an instant knot in her stomach.

"No," Malcolm assured her quickly. "Your mother is fine."

"The war, then," Evie guessed. She knew there was a war in the Wizarding world. She wasn't crazy. Whenever she was home she read the Daily Prophet, and her parents spoke to her. Or so she thought. She thought it was something minor, not escalated, under full control of the Ministry of Magic. Their family, remaining neutral, was completely safe. Or were they?

"Father quit his job," Sébastien finally spoke up, landing him another glare from his father.

"What?!" Evie exclaimed in shock. Her father, the most dedicated Healer the world had ever seen. "Is this true?"

"Yes, Evangeline, I'm afraid it is true," Malcolm admitted finally. He sipped his tea as if nothing was wrong. The gesture made Evie furious. In a way, his passion for Healing and hers for the piano were very much alike. She had fought hard to pursue her passion, and she knew he had too in his younger years. Giving it up seemed the most irrational thing to do.

"Why?" was all she could manage to say.

"Because of a personal matter of value."

"A personal matter?" she repeated. "So it has nothing to do with the war?"

"On the contrary. It has everything to do with the war."

The lack of knowledge was pissing her off. She must have looked so upset, and enraged, her father chuckled lightly and reached across the table to pat her hand. "Darling, there is no need to be upset. We're all safe. This is a day of celebration for you."

"What happened?" she insisted, not intending to leave the table without the whole truth. Without a syllable left out.

"He Who Must Not Be Named has gained more power than your mother and I believe is good for him. For anyone. The consequences are far-reaching."

"How far-reaching?"

"We thought it wouldn't be so bad at first. But slowly He seems to rid the muggleborns of all privileges. Including their access to St. Mungo's".

Evie listened quietly to all this news. No hospital for muggleborns. She shivered visibly at the thought of that. So much for her thoughts everything was merely a bit of political uproar.

"How come I don't know all of this?" she stared at her plate, the little appetite she had had completely lost.

"I can see now it was entirely wrong to leave you out of it," Malcolm admitted, shoving his own half-finished plate to the side of the table. "We wanted you to have a good time and dedicate to your studies. Things are relatively safe here, in the muggle world. We didn't want you to worry."

"What if something happened? I would have no clue what was going on."

"I can see that now, dear. Your mother and I thought, perhaps foolishly, that none of us were at risk."

"What about the Daily Prophet? I read it regularly at home."

"Censorship. The only source said to be relatively objective is _The Quibbler_ ".

" _The Quibbler?"_ Evie repeated with a frown. "I find that hard to believe. And this is why you quit your job? Because of the anti-muggleborn policy of St Mungo's ? "

"Indeed," Malcolm nodded. "Your mother and I discussed it for a very long time. Your mother of course comes from traditional, and in your words: oldfashioned heritage. But that does not mean she or any of us wish muggles any harm. This was a step too far for us to take lightly."

Once she got over her rage at being left out of important things, Evie actually found her father's decision very impressive. And it sounded like her mother had agreed, as well. Were they all on the same page at last?

"We could all be in danger," she said. "It sounds a lot like an act of open rebellion."

"Don't be silly, Eve," Malcolm assured her. "You-Know-Who has more to do than fret over one mere Healer. He's busy enough with the actual rebels. And besides; we've done nothing wrong. A man is free to quit his job, I would say. It leaves more employment for others."

Unsure whether things were as optimistic as her father offered, Evie let herself relax somewhat. After all; what was the worst that could happen in response to a man quitting his job? The family could easily live on her mother's heritage. And once she got over the initial shock of all this news, she got back to what was truly important today: the concert.

"This is your day," Malcolm reminded his daughter, grasping onto the fact that she got her concentration back for the task at hand. "The war doesn't deserve to ruin that."

This was a true fact, and Evie surprised herself at how easily she was able to let the thoughts of war slide away. The nerves were preoccupying her mind, and only by surrendering she was able to find the concentration she needed for the task at hand. After breakfast they parted their ways; she would go back to her dorm to get ready for the concert, and her father and brother would go into the city to do some shopping.

She laid out her dress and everything else she needed to improve her appearance to the max. When she reached in one of her drawers for some stockings, her attention was drawn by a small, long wooden box hidden there. She knew what it contained. Without any intentions she picked it up and opened it, revealing her carefully hidden wand. She didn't use it once she was here, among Muggles. It was always there, though, and it had always made her feel safe. Like she had a secret weapon of some kind, ready to defend her should the need arise. Today it gave her a very different feeling. Unsafe, if anything. Despite all, she had always felt proud of her ability to perform magic. Now she knew what she knew today, she suddenly felt different. If there were wizards using their powers to hurt others, defenceless others, then it was rather something to be ashamed of. She wasn't sure she wanted to be part of such a world anymore. Her intentions to return to the Wizarding world after today seemed so foolish. After all these years of living here, how could she go back? And if she went back; how could she fit in again, when she never really had?

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thanks again for reading so far! I chose to keep this one in the past entirely to build up to the sadness we all know is to come. I hope you enjoyed; let me know through a review :) See you next chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

"What will you do after the war?"

Sometimes it was as if they had the whole house to themselves. Evie loved them best; these nocturnal hours they could spend together without any interference. The fireplace in the drawing room warmed them comfortably as they laid on the rug in front of it. Their naked bodies were tangled in their post-coital bliss, and suddenly it was so very easy to pretend like all was normal.

"After the war," Sirius mused, his fingers running through her hair. "I think I'd grab the first portkey I can get to some sunny beach far away. And at the first sign of rain or storm I'd move on to the next."

"Island hopping. Would you go alone?" she grinned.

"It wouldn't be half as fun," Sirius leaned over to kiss her, pulling her closer against his chest.  
Evie kept telling herself each night it should really be the last time. In a short time the Order would have her Muggly identity papers ready, and then she would have to leave. There was no point in growing attached to Sirius; she would only make things unnecessarily difficult. That was the rational side of things. The emotional side drew her to him no matter the circumstances. It wanted to make use of every opportunity they had of being together, before she knew she would be greeted by a thick blanket of loneliness again.

"How much longer do you think?"

She couldn't help but ask. If only they had an idea of how long the war would last, that would make her going away much easier. She would know then, that it would not be long before they would be able to reunite.

"I don't know," Sirius admitted, his fingers now caressing her back expertly. It sent a shiver down her spine; he never ceased to arouse her, even when they had just made love minutes ago. It was hard to believe he had been locked up in Azkaban without female company for so long, considering his amorous talents. "It seems Harry has some sort of plan, but he won't let any of us in on what it is exactly."

He told her nothing she hadn't heard before, but still his words were a disappointment. With a sigh she rolled over, her back to him, and stared into the orange depths of the burning fireplace.

"You can always change your mind," he offered carefully.

As if that was not exactly what she was tempted to do. It was safe to stay here and do nothing but a little research. But how much longer before that would drive her insane? She was young and active, she wanted to do things. If there was a way to get out and be relatively safe, why didn't everyone do that? Why didn't they leave this rotten world behind, if practising magic caused such wars full of discrimination?

"How can I?" she said, more fiercely than intended. "It's easy for you to say, but I can't just stay here to prevent you from feeling lonely." Suddenly more aware of her nakedness, she stood up to put her nightdress back on. She knew she'd said the wrong thing, and she regretted it immediately, but it was too late to take anything back.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," he merely responded, his tone obviously cool. He followed her example and stood up to get dressed.

"I'm sorry," she said then, tying her hair back in a ponytail. "It's not like I want to leave."

"You should, you're too young to lead your life waiting for better times. Maybe you'll meet someone younger, and more cheerful."

He didn't sound angry, but the distant tone was clearly noticeable. Evie wished they had never started on this topic. "Is that what you want?" she asked finally. She forced herself to remain standing, refusing to allow herself to run off.

"You're being impossible," Sirius sighed, gathering up their empty glasses and the bottle of wine.

"No, you are!" she exclaimed, furious at his lack of emotional response. Her frustration was sky-high, and she had never been more uncertain. What she really needed was for him to step up and tell her what to do; going or staying. It was so easy being a child and letting someone else decide. "You're finally free after years and you just trade one prison for the next!"

It was below the belt and she knew it. Sometimes she wondered how she could let such words leave her mouth, but the damage was done. She could not even bring herself to take the response she deserved, and turned on the spot to hurry away from the scene.

Tears burned behind her eyes, but she would not allow herself the relief of crying over something she had caused herself. Why did she always have to ruin everything? If there was one person that had done so much for her it was Sirius, and she rewarded him by stepping on his pride. Angry with herself she stepped into bed. It was the first time in weeks she slept in this bed; ever since the first night she had never left Sirius' room. She was much too anxious to sleep, and for a while she laid listening to see whether there would be footsteps nearing her door. They never did, though, and by the time she finally fell asleep the sun was rising already.

Foxworth Manor was intimidating as ever in the twilight. Evie had never hoped to call it home again. Every bit of the house reminded her of Pureblood traditions she was very much against, especially considering the war. It would not be long, before she would be able to rent something for her own. Hopefully. Maybe she ought to be more optimistic and consider the possibility of spending a few weeks with her family to be fun. She would certainly love to spend time with her little brother, and with her father. It was her mother she was most worried about. Whatever topic they discussed always seemed to end in an argument.

When she entered the house she was greeted by a house elf that eagerly accepted her suitcases and coat. Apart from that, everything was unusually silent.

"Where is Father?" she inquired. "And Mama?"

The little elf bowed so low its nose touched the ground, a habit which Evie found highly embarrassing to witness, before it replied. "The Master has gone out with the young Master, miss. And the Mrs, Maisie doesn't know, Maisie is very sorry."

Evie rolled her eyes and sent the elf off to unpack her suitcases, while she hurried up the stairs in search of her mother.

"Mama?"

She checked the drawing room first, and then the dining hall in case she had decided to have an early dinner. Both were empty. Evie then went for her parents' bedroom, knocking hesitantly.

Her knock was not met by a response, but it sounded like someone was crying. Of course Evie could not contain her curiosity, and she entered nonetheless.

"Mama? What is wrong?"

She stood hesitantly in the doorway. She didn't think she had ever seen her mother cry before. She was always calm and composed; to such an extent Evie found terribly annoying.

"Oh, Eva," Josephine looked up at her daughter's entrance. She quickly dabbed her cheeks with a handkerchief and stood up from the vanity she had been seated in front of. "I had no idea you would arrive before dinner."

"I thought I'd surprise you," Evie said quietly. Her mother was visibly upset and seemed intent on not mentioning any part of that. "But you're crying.."

"Nothing's set for dinner," Josephine started, ignoring her daughter's words on her emotional state of being entirely. She quickly started to arranged the bottles of perfume and make up boxes on the table in front of her. "Your father and brother went out to the library hours ago, I told them to be in time for dinner, but you know those two."

"Mama! Will you tell me whatever is the matter?" Evie interfered, and Josephine finally ceased her rant. She looked more vulnerable now, without the shield of being busy.

"I'm sorry, chérie. I am happy to see you." She went over to embrace her daughter, and Evie let her. She breathed in her mother's perfume and realised, for the first time, that she had missed her.  
"You've become so beautiful, and your skin looks perfect" Josephine smiled, holding her at arm's length. "Do you moisturize?"

"No, I've got good genes," Evie smiled carefully. Her eyes remained locked on her mother's, though. She had been left out of important things long enough; any sign something was wrong was enough to alarm her.

"I don't know about that," Josephine chuckled, sitting back down. She sighed deeply and Evie noticed she looked tired, even with a carefully applied camouflage of make-up.

"Father and Seb told me about the war," Evie took a seat on the bed across her.

"Yes," Jospehine nodded. "Everything is very different now..."

"What does Father do all day?" Evie couldn't help but smile. She couldn't imagine how he spent his days without the omnipresent job to busy himself with. Spare time must be something completely foreign to him.

"Oh, he does what he always does on a day off."

"He had days off?" she widened her smile. She had yet to see her father enjoying his leisure time. Usually he was either with his nose in the medical books, perfecting his potion brewing, or running of to aid at some sort of emergency. He was not the man to take a walk in the park or enjoy a game of Quidditch.

"All right, perhaps not. To be perfectly honest, Evangeline, your father has started lending his services to the Order of the Phoenix. Do you know what that is?"

"The rebellion movement?" Evie inquired, having heard rumours about them.

" _Oui_ , _exactement._ One of them suffered appendicitis this week. St Mungo's won't help them now, it is controlled by You-Know-Who. Your father performed the surgery right on the kitchen table," Josephine grinned, and there was an unfamiliar sort of pride showing on her features. A pride that Evie shared whole-heartedly at her father's bravery.

"Goodness," she grinned. "That must have been something."

"Yes, something indeed," Josephine smiled. "I do worry, Eva. We wanted to keep you out of it. We thought it would all blow over soon. I can see now that was very wrong. You are very much an adult."

"And it's not blowing over, is that it?"

"Yes. And how can we stay out of it? Your father has a gift. They need a Healer on their side. No one with a heart would turn that down."

"I don't know, Mama." Evie suddenly regarded her mother from a different perspective. It seemed perhaps she had always judged her too harshly. This compassionate side of her was very new, as was her willingness to step up and be brave in a time ignorance would be easiest. "Is that why you were so upset?"

"Oh, I was just being silly." Josephine visibly attempted to laugh off the tears that were still in her eyes. When she did not manage, she decided to express her concerns nevertheless. "You are very mature now, you won't live here for much longer. But your brother is still a child. It does not seem right to endanger him. But we cannot turn our heads while we can help, do you see?"

"I do see." Evie got to her feet and embraced her mother tightly. She had only been gone since Christmas, and so much had changed since then. Perhaps she ought to leave her rebellious adolescent behaviour behind and see things for what they really were. More important things were at stake than a choice of occupation. "Are there any signs to make us believe we're in danger?"

"Oh no," Josephine quickly assured her. "We would have told you immediately. No, everything seems right. We don't openly associate with the rebellion. Life goes on as always. We will hold a nice party to celebrate your return."

Evie stood up to study her image in the full length mirror in the middle of her parents' bedroom. She had taken a flight from Paris to London, travelling together with some of the other English students. Only now that she was home did she realise how tired she was. She had worked hard to study for her final concert and the exams preceding it. She had done well, though, according to her teachers her talent had developed more than sufficiently in the past few years.

"A party sounds nice, Mama, but what will I do after?" she said sadly. Now that she knew how bad the war had gotten, she doubted there would be any demand for a musical teacher. Anything even slightly related to muggle practises was now strictly forbidden, so she suspected wizards interested in magic used spells to have piano's play themselves. Something she highly discouraged. Piano's had souls in them, they needed to be played to leave that out. A simple spell couldn't do that. It was hardly even comparable.

"You will see," Josephine assured her daughter, joining her in front of the mirror. They were not so different, the two women. Evie had tried for the majority of her life to prove she was different from her, but now she was ready to see the comparison. They were just as tall and had the same wavy brown hair. Their built, equally slim with a classic hourglass shape, was emphasized by their small waist. But mostly they were similar when it came to their eyes. The purpose may be different, but whenever they set their mind on something, they possessed a characteristic determination that went beyond any politics or war.

"One step at a time, don't you think? First let your family enjoy having their daughter and sister home again."

"Yes," Evie agreed, for the first time enjoying their similarities. "One step at a time."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

When the waiting wore on Evie's initial dread to leave Grimmauld Place made room for the wish to leave as quickly as possible. It was taking too long and she grew weary of being in what was really 'no man's land'. It was too soon to start her new Muggle life without all the papers, but her stay would be too short to become an actual part of the Order. Any mention of the war upset her and contributed to the vivid nightmares she still had. Part of her didn't want to be left out of everything going on, but the other part grew physically sick in response to anything war-related. And so she mainly kept to her room, hoping this eternal waiting game would not take much longer. She felt awkward around Sirius, as well. They had not had a chance to talk alone since the argument, and Evie got the feeling he was more distant whenever they did meet in public. He was not openly angry –how could he be, when technically no one knew of their affair- but she was sensitive enough to feel something had changed. She knew she should really go and tell him she was sorry, but she felt she just couldn't pluck up the energy for conflicts.

She spent her present after noon reading when a knock on the door stirred her. "Come in," she called lazily from her position on the bed. The rollercoaster her life had been for the past few weeks were starting to take its toll on her. She did not think she had ever felt so tired; if she gave in to it she could sleep for days on end.

"Just coming to see how you were," Charlie said, stepping inside her dimly-lit room.

"Peanuts, as you can see," Evie responded, pushing herself up to a sitting position. "Do you have news?"

"Tonks and I found some Muggle allies with experience in false identity papers. All you need is a name, and we can have them ready by tomorrow. Tonks opted for Calliope, but I'm not sure how Muggle that is. Thought I'd check if you'd thought of anything yourself," he grinned.

"Thank goodness, I wouldn't have thought there was anything worse than 'Evangeline' but Tonks did a good job trying." Despite herself, she noticed a laugh did escape her. She had to think of something, though. Something that still suited her, even if it wasn't her real name. She would have to listen to it for Merlin knew how long.

"Isabelle," she finally decided. "It was my mother's middle name. Do you think that's too recognisable?"

"I don't think so," Charlie assured her. "It seems a fairly common Muggle name. Should be safe." He seemed about to leave, but hesitated at her less than cheerful expression. "It's just a name."

"Sure," she smiled sadly. "It's just a name. And it's just hair," she reached out to touch her recently cut shoulder-length, mahogany coloured locks.

"It's a nice name, if it helps. And the hair looks good," he grinned.

"A little," Evie smiled vaguely. "Thanks, Charlie."

"Any time. I'll let you know as soon as there's any news."

Evie watched him leave, a tinge of sadness surprising her. He was right; there was no need to be sentimental. A name or a haircut said nothing about who she truly was. And yet it seemed such essential things to change at a time everything was already so unstable. Her name, once lovingly chosen by her parents, was part of her. Leaving it behind felt like letting them down a little, like she so often had. Her choice of studies, associating with the Muggle world, taking a lover out of wedlock, and now this. There was no choice, though. If she wanted a chance at survival she had to make sacrifices. Once she got used to an anonymous life without any imminent danger she would sure find it to be worth it. Until then, she would just have to cope and hope she was more flexible than she thought she was.

* * *

"How do I look?" Evie turned with a radiant smile. A party held in the honour of her return to England deserved a bit of dressing up. A whole lot of dressing up. The formfitting long dress made of red satin fit her like a glove. It was for once something she and her mother had agreed on; a rare event that in itself deserved to be celebrated. Around her neck prided a Cavallier family heirloom; a heavy diamond necklace with heart-shaped pendant. In the dimly lit bedchamber it caught the light just perfectly.

"Like a doll," Sébastien said, wrinkling his nose in a way that meant it was not to be taken as a compliment. The boy had taken a seat on her bed and watched her finish off her make-up.

"Thanks a lot, Mr-fancy-dress-robes", Evie snorted while she inspected her silhouette in the full-length mirror. Vain or not, she liked the way the dress illuminated her curves and made her waist look tiny. It had taken her hours to get ready. Especially the hair was a challenge. It was long and heavy, but eventually she made an elegant chignon at the back of her neck that stayed put. A charm or two had made it just right; the subtle yet delightful advantages to witchcraft.

"You look like Mama," he added.

"Are you done insulting your poor old sister?" she chuckled, not as insulted as she might have been at such a comparison some time ago. Truth be told, since her graduation things had improved between her mother and her. Not that they were all of a sudden best friends; that was a step too far. But they no longer constantly quarrelled, and on rare occasions there was a sense of closeness they had never before experienced.

"Are you excited about tonight?" she inquired, eyeing her little brother through the mirror while she finished applying red lipstick.

"Sure," Seb shrugged. "I get to stay up late."

"Of course. That is enough for things to be fun," Evie chuckled, thinking how simple it was to be thirteen. "How are things at school?" she turned from her mirror image to join him on the bed, careful not to creak her dress.

"Now you _sound_ like Mama, too!" he protested. "It's fine. Pretty boring."

"Boring, huh? What about all your Potions experiments?"

"They don't teach the cool stuff at school," he reminded her. "When you want cool things you need to do them in your own time."

"Hm," she nodded pensively. "I guess it's always like that. And what about the girls?" she chuckled.

"What about girls?" he frowned grumpily.

"Is there one you fancy?"

She couldn't help but laugh at his teenage grumpiness. She really had missed him. It was good to be around again now he was really growing into adolescence. After all, she only had one brother and she was too crazy about him to miss out.

"No, girls are stupid!" he assured her.

"Even your favourite sister?" Evie sniggered in her attempt to embrace and kiss him; he ducked away skilfully and hurried out of the room.

"I only have one!" he called back as he sprinted down the hallway.

"The one and only!" she called back with another laugh, smoothing out her skirt while she got ready to do one final check-up on her appearance before it would be time to depart.

Initially she had thought the idea of a party was hardly befitting the circumstances. There was a war going on, and considering her father's recent act of open rebellion it seemed wise to lay low. On the other hand, acting like everything was normal had its advantages, too. It sure gave of the impression nothing was out of ordinary, and it provided a welcome distraction.

"Eva?" sounded her mother's voice after a knock on the door.

"Come in."

"Are you ready to leave?" Josephine entered, looking quite fine herself in a black chiffon dress. She stopped in her tracks as she laid eyes on her daughter.

"How do I look?" Evie grinned.

"Oh, _formidable!"_ Josephine exclaimed in delight, coming over to kiss Evie's cheeks. "Absolutely beautiful, Eva! You should dress up like this more often."

"Sure, I'll wear it to Diagon Alley next morning," Evie chuckled with a roll of her eyes.

"Don't talk like that now," Josephine said, unable to wipe the smile off her face. "Tonight is going to be a happy evening. Perhaps there will be a nice gentleman for you to meet?"

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes again at this recurrent topic, Evie headed for the stairs. "Who knows," she managed to say. "Mama, do me one favour all right?"

"Of course."

"Stop criticising me and how I live? Just for tonight?" she stopped at the bottom of the stairs. A lot could be said of tardy women, but it seemed they were waiting on the men tonight.

"I never criticise you," Josephine wrinkled her nose in denial. Her daughter's look told her enough, though, and she relent ed. "All right, chérie, calm down and let us enjoy things."

Evie snorted, but they waited in relatively peaceful silence for Malcolm and Sébastien. When the pair finally appeared, she quickly accepted her father's praise on her appearance, and more of her brother's snorting. They were running late already: high time for them to apparate to the party's location.

The yacht was a gift from Evie's late grandfather to his only daughter. They did not use it as often as they used to, but it was a great location for celebrations such as these. For the occasion the outside of the yacht was entirely covered by small golden lights. It was a beautiful sight in the darkness, with the lights reflecting on the river. When they got on deck there were tables floating in mid-air covered with embroidered white and golden table clothes. There was champagne, Firewhiskey for the fans of stronger drinks, and choices of cooking sherry, Rosmerta's oak-matured mead, and different sorts of wine.

"Is there no Butterbeer?" Sébastien pouted. He had recently discovered the joys of Butterbeer, and was too young for actual alcoholic beverages.

"There's lemonade for you," Evie assured him. She looked around and enjoyed the beauty of the yacht, especially now that it was still deserted. Soon the guests would start to arrive and there would hardly be any time to realise how lucky she was. It was easy to nag about the war and how it narrowed down her work options, and it was even easier to nag about her mother. But in the end she was delighted she did the education of her dreams, and she still had her family to love her. Perhaps that was true adulthood; realising your rebellious behaviour didn't all make sense.  
What was mostly impressive about the yacht's interior was the white grand piano standing in the centre. She recognised it from the last time she was here a few years ago, but it had never looked as beautiful. And it had never been out on deck, naturally.

"Wonderful isn't it?" Malcolm headed over as he noted his daughter's surprise. "We had it all tuned this morning. We hope you will do us the honour of playing something tonight."

"Really?" Evie glanced from him to her mother, who smiled in agreement. It meant a lot to her to see her parents openly supporting her music, even in front of wizard guests. A few years ago that had seemed entirely impossible. "That's wonderful! Thank you so much!". She embraced first her father, and then her mother. Sébastien went running the moment he suspected there were going to be hugs.

It was not long before guests started to arrive. Evie didn't know half of them; most were friends and acquaintances of her parents. Vague faces she had had dinner with now and then when she was younger. Her friends were all in Paris now, and inviting Muggles for an elegant soirée was a step too far for her parents. Not that it mattered; she had had her share of graduation parties in France before she left.

"Eva, how lovely to see you all grown up!" An unfamiliar lady joined Evie and her mother just as they were about to take their first sip of champagne. Evie thought she would have remembered her if she had seen her before; hair resembling that of a sheep would have definitely made an impression.

"You remember the Countess of Transylvania," Josephine said.

Not really, Evie mused, but extended a hand. "How do you do?"

"Just call me Olga," the elder lady replied, shaking her hand with impressive strength. "How –wonderful- , Josephine, to see you finally getting back into the social circuit! I was just telling Herbert how difficult it must have been for you. But there's no reason to hide out, dear! This 'Muggle chapter' of Eva's is over now, isn't it? We all make mistakes, and now she can devote her time back here to finding a suitable husband." she beamed, making Evie suspect the main purpose of her coming here was to insult them.

"Indeed," Josephine mused, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Who cares about a mistake or two? Is that what 'Herbie' said when you divorced your third husband for him?"

Evie suppressed a giggle and eyed her mother curiously, impressed by her willingness to stand up for her against her supposed friends. The countess left quickly in search of her husband, leaving mother and daughter to laugh openly.

"Are they all like that?" Evie grinned, finally finding refuge in her champagne.

"Merlin's beard, I'm afraid so," Josephine sighed, checking her make-up in the back of a glass. She was not granted a lot of time before other guests came to say hello, more than a few expressing their dislike in Evie's schooling. Evie refused to let it get to her, though. This was exactly why she had been so intent on leaving the narrow-minded wizarding world. Still, she gladly escaped the awkward conversations by taking place behind the piano and playing to her heart's content. It really had been tuned remarkably well. One of the funniest thing was how the people that gossiped behind her back about her 'Muggle hobby' all seemed remarkably impressed and gathered around the instrument to listen. It was sad Evie considered herself an adult, otherwise she would have taken great joy in sticking her tongue at the ignorant bunch.

"Dear friends," Malcolm gathered everyone's attention by standing centre stage, magically increasing his vocal volume. "A word of welcome to you all.

"Oh gods, he's doing a speech," Evie groaned to her little brother who had just joined her at the piano. She turned on the stool to watch her father, attempting not to blush.

"This is going to be all embarrassing," Seb grinned. "For you!"

Evie pushed him away with a slight laugh; she feared, though, that he was very much right.

"My wife and I are very grateful you've all come to celebrate our daughter's success tonight," Malcolm continued. "Evangeline's education might not be as conventional of a choice in our world, but it is a choice she made consciously and with her whole heart."

"Your face is all red," Seb commented at Evie's now unavoidable flush creeping up her face. She sure didn't like being the centre of attention; it was always safest to hide behind the piano. She had taken singing classes at the conservatoire as well, and while it had hardly been unsuccessful, she had missed having something to hide behind.

"And so we are very proud to have a professional musician in the family," Malcolm concluded with a smile towards Evie, who flushed further. "And I am sure if we ask her nicely she shall delight us with a few more songs tonight," he laughed as the people clapped in confusion, a few coming over to Evie to congratulate her on her graduation again.

"Where can I get more lemonade?" Sébastien nagged her. All the floating trays were filled with 'adult drinks'.

"I'll get it below deck," Evie replied, glad for a chance to escape the crowd for a minute. It was getting late, way past her little brother's bed time, and she could tell it made him a little cranky. He was at that age now; too proud he might be tired, but in the mean time influencing everyone with his moods.

Just as she reached the side of deck and aimed to go down the stairs to fetch her brother a drink of his choice, she got startled by some noise. What she saw when she turned was at first a blur. Dark turmoil filled the deck, and the moment Evie spotted dark-cloaked figures there were green flashes illuminating the sky. Whatever split second she had thought it could be some form of entertainment was quickly cleared when people started to scream and run in various directions, colliding with each other and heightening the panic.

Whenever Evie dreamed or thought back to that moment later she found she could only remember strange details, such as the pink colour of the countess of Transylvania's dress as she dropped down dead, or the stunned look of surprise on her little brother's face. But not how many Death Eaters there were, or who died first. Or how she ended up in the water without anyone seeing.

The only thought she had at that moment was her little brother. He was all alone in the crowd, her parents had spread out entertaining the guests, and he was waiting for her to get the drink.

"Seb!" she called, her voice lost in the tumult of screams and cries of 'Avada Kedavra'. She hardly dared to leave her spot; by the side of the deck by the door she was relatively unseen; the lantern above the door had broken, probably hit by a spell, and she was off-centre. It only took her a moment, though, and she saw Sébastien running in her direction. Had he seen her, or was he looking for a way out? She would never know; before he got really close a ray of green light hit him in the back. The look upon his features froze instantly as he fell to the ground in a lifeless heap.

Evie didn't realise at first. She stood there, as if she were immobilized, watching one after the other person die. What happened next was a mystery. It could be best explained by a number of killing curses colliding, causing a slight explosion that blew Evie of deck. Or so she liked to think. It could easily be she used the occasion to jump overboard and disappear from sight. But that was not something she could place in her memories. Leaving all these people on deck, including her parents and Seb, to her seemed as unforgivable as it would have been to actually fire the killing curses. Even if they were already dead.

The water was freezing, instantly taking her breath away as she gasped for air. The sound disappeared in all the noise on the yacht, giving Evie a chance to swim over to the reed where she could hide behind. She wouldn't be able to stay in water as cold for long, so she knew she should really hurry up and attempt to climb out, but she didn't dare. If she left her hiding place here the Death Eaters might see her and come after her. And really she was hypnotized by what was going on on the yacht. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the killings; desperate in her will to go back and stop the Death Eaters, but utterly frozen with fright and the knowledge she wouldn't be able to handle them all together.

It got quiet on the yacht, indicating the last victims too had been caught, and it was not long before she could hear cracks of the first disapparating Death Eaters. By then she had lost all track of time, with no clue on how long she had been there. Her dress was so heavy she wasn't sure she would be able to swim all the way to the side and climb up; her wand was left on the piano, probably gone by now. A moment of blind panic came over her when she realised she may have escaped the attack, but could easily die here. How ironic would that be?

It was long since very quiet , the last Death Eaters left some time ago, when Evie spotted three figures on broomsticks nearing. She was barely conscious at this point, but they caught her eye circling above the sky, eventually landing on deck. She couldn't see what was going on very clearly, but one of the figures seemed to have pink hair.

"Bloody hell, they're all dead," cursed the pink-haired woman.

It was quiet for a while; perhaps they were checking to see if anyone still had a pulse. Or perhaps they too were simply devastated by the amount of pointless killing that had been done.

"Someone must have tipped them off," sounded an older man's voice. "Shame. We needed the old Healer on our side. I told him many times; CONSTANT VIGILANCE! This ain't no time to have a party."

"It's a little late to blame him now, is it Mad-Eye?" the woman's voice snapped. "We best hurry off, there's nothing we can do."

It was starting to dawn on Evie that she had to act now if she wanted to be found and stay alive. A moment ago when she watched the dead bodies on deck she had been tempted for just a moment to allow her heavy dress to sink her down so that she could join her family in death like she had been meant to. But in this instant there was the prime mechanism of hope coming over her. She opened her mouth to call out, but her teeth chattered so bad with cold no sound came out. Not much longer now, before they would be gone.

She gathered up her strengths, the adrenaline of hope shaking her out of the subconscious state. She managed to pull away the reed and swim one, maybe two strokes. It was enough for them to notice her. She didn't hear what they said, mistaking her for a Death Eater at first, before they noticed the state of her. Her ears were ringing and her head pounding, and she just knew she was going to sink. Helplessly splashing as she gasped for air, it felt like she was on her last breath when finally a pair of strong arms scooped her up and pulled her on a broom, wrapping her in a way oversized coat. It was the last thing she knew, before everything went black.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Surrounded by the little possessions she had, Evie was more than aware the time had come to leave. Tonks had come to inform her earlier that she would be leaving to her new Muggle life in the morning. The identity papers were fixed, and their Muggle contacts had helped for a small rental apartment to be ready for her. The first month was paid for, but she would have to go looking for a job. Now that she was supposed to be dead she could hardly go and claim her inheritance, provided it would even still be possible to trade gold for Muggle money. Although she suspected it wouldn't be so difficult with her perfectly fine Muggle education, it was still a challenge. Everything was a challenge these days. Her grief laid over her like a thick blanket of darkness, and once she was gone there was no way she could relief that with Sirius's presence.

A knock revived her from her pessimistic daydreaming. "It's open."

Somehow she was not so surprised to see Sirius. They had not spent any time alone together since the argument, and Evie had been beginning to think it was best to leave it like that. It avoided the disaster of parting, although the feeling of leaving things left unsaid were perhaps equally dreadful.

"I figured I'd come and see if you needed any help packing," Sirius said once he had entered the room.

Evie smiled; glad he had made the first step. "I don't have much, as you can see," she gestured for the few belongings she had that laid spread out on the bed. She had never been able to go back to her old home and collect her belongings, so what she had now were hand-me-downs from Tonks and Hermione.

"I should have come to see you sooner," Sirius said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

She shook her head and turned her back on him as she finished placing the clothes in a small suitcase. "Nonsense. I said mean things to you. I owe you an apology."

"Don't be ridiculous, Eve."

She hardly noticed he had come up to her as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. "We're all tired, and the war is taking its toll on all of us. It's taking too long and you've been through a rough time. Of course we say things we don't mean."

"I thought you wouldn't talk to me anymore because you were angry," Evie responded in surprise, now eagerly turning around in his embrace to face him.

"It takes more than a word or two to hurt my pride," he grinned, cupping her face between his hands before he kissed her. "I know it didn't make sense. I worried about you leaving. I shouldn't ask you not to go. You deserve better than any of this."

"It's only until the end of the war," she whispered, pressing her lips to his. Now that everything turned out to be all right, she wanted to cling to him so desperately he would never let her go. It now seemed silly they had wasted the last few days they could have had together.

"Of course," Sirius smiled, eagerly accepting her kisses and returning them with his own, pulling her down on the bed with him to sit in his lap. "Then we'll go island hopping."

They were both thinking the same thing, though. Until the end of the war: how long would that be? Things never appeared to be moving forward, for all they knew it could last decades. They might never live to see the end of the war.

Although such a thought was not something they wished to think right now, it surely dominated their lovemaking that night. Both were very conscious this might be the last time they could share a moment like this, and that made everything so much more intense. It was a bittersweet goodbye: easily the best of all the nights they had had together, but in the same time the most painful with the thought of parting in the back of their heads. Neither of them slept much that night. Evie heard every hour go by; the grandfather clock in the hallway telling them whenever they were another hour closer to her leaving. No one was forcing her to go. She was doing this to herself. But she had made her decision. A chance to get out; how valuable was that? The atmosphere of war was choking her, even with distractions of a lover. A free life, but the price she paid was giving up Sirius.

"Am I a fool to go?" Evie asked that morning, when they had been unable to stretch time any longer and were forced to get up. If only they had a time turner right now. She would play last night over and over again if she did.

"No, I think you're very wise to go," Sirius assured her. He stood getting dressed as if he had always been there. As if they had always been a pair.

"I shouldn't nag on. I made a choice, I'm not going to doubt anything," she decided, shoving some last few things into her suitcase. Determined, she tied her hair –still much shorter than she was used to- back into a ponytail. "It's best if we don't say goodbye."

"Best not," he agreed. "I won't come down?"

"Best not," Evie repeated quietly. She figured she would start living the part, and collected her suitcase without the use of a spell to close or even lift it.

"You don't need help carrying that down the stairs?"

"I'm tougher than I look," she smiled sadly.

He returned it. "I know."

She stood in the doorway, hesitant, wondering whether this was it. They hadn't wrapped themselves up into some sort of soppy romantic liaison, but she knew how much he meant to her. And now she knew how much she meant to him. Was she really just going to say bye and walk off?

The decision made for her, Sirius stepped in to pull her close. The kiss was passionate and desperate, different from the earlier tenderness of their lovemaking. They clung to each other equally tight, only letting go when they were very much out of breath.

"That was a more proper goodbye," she breathed, running a hand through her hair. She probably looked dishevelled already, but it was a good sort of feeling.

"Only we weren't doing goodbyes," he reminded her.

"Then it was just a very good kiss," she said, unable to do anything but laugh at the oddity of the situation.

"Let's stick to that," he agreed, grinning.

"All right," Evie collected the suitcase which had fallen to the ground. "See you around." Her voice broke and she quickly turned to hurry down the stairs. Now that he was out of sight she couldn't hold in the tears she'd been suppressing. Just a quick release; she still wanted to stay brave. She wouldn't want the Order members to remember her as a weakling. After all; this was easy for her. She could escape. They were left here by some inexplicable feeling of loyalty that made them fight until perhaps they met Death in person.

"Ready?" Tonks inquired once she entered the hallway. She and Mad-Eye were already waiting by the door. They had attempted to dress like Muggles; Mad-Eye's magical eye hidden beneath a pirate patch, and Tonks's pink hair traded for a more unnoticeable shade of blond.

"I suppose so," Evie nodded, hoping they didn't see the remainders of tearstains on her cheeks she had just now attempted to rub off with her sleeve. All the other goodbyes had been said yesterday, and she was glad it was like this. With no one else there it was easiest to leave.

"Then we're off," Mad-eye concluded. He was so practical it was inspiring. "We know the place, you can side-along apparate with Tonks. Any questions? Got everything?"

"No questions," Evie said, just wishing to get this over with. "Got it all," she held up the little suitcase before she linked arms with Tonks for the apparition.

"All right, hold tight," Tonks instructed before she followed Mad-Eye's departure. Evie felt the familiar squeeze that came with disapparating, and then the final clearly audible _Crack!_ as they reached their destination.

When they had said small, they had meant small. The apartment was so tiny there was barely room for the three of them in the living room. Or Evie supposed it was the living room, anyway. There was an old green sofa, a black coffee table, and a television. She saw Mad-Eye eyeing the latter rather suspiciously, but she herself was of course already familiar with all Muggle objects. In her college years she had even come to enjoy watching tv every now and then. In the corner was a table with two chairs, and there were two doors. Tonks opened first one door, revealing an equally tiny white kitchen; terribly outdated, but with all the facilities she would need, and then the other. The second door revealed the hallway with the front door, and another door which Evie expected to lead to the bathroom.

"Everything seems in order," she said quietly. She didn't need luxury. She'd lived in a dorm room for years and all she experienced there was freedom, having finally escaped the watchful eyes of her parents. It was the loneliness that frightened her most.

"We best be off, then," Mad-Eye suggested. "No need for us to linger."

Tonks sent him a glare; she must have noticed Evie's risen panic. "You're so sensitive, are you?" Mad-Eye merely shrugged, and Tonks led Evie to sit down on the sofa.

"Will you be all right?" she inquired kindly.

"I will be," Evie assured her.

"Take good care of yourself, all right?"she pressed on. "The fridge is supposed to be full of enough food to get you through the weekend, perhaps you'll have settled in enough by then to go out some. You know how everything works and all, right? Mad-Eye and I wouldn't be much help telling you about Muggle money and all these strange Muggle machines. I know my mum and dad used to have a telly, my dad liked it, but to be honest he was always the one taking care of it when something was broken. "

"I'm familiar with the 'Muggle machines'," Evie chuckled. "Don't worry about me."

"And you know the rules? No magic, no owls, no apparating. Nothing," Mad-eye reminded her as he headed for the door.

"No nothing," she repeated quietly. She was very much about to break down, and preferably with them far out of hearing distance.

"All right. We'll let you know when we have some good news to tell," Tonks smiled, quickly embracing her.

"All right," Evie nodded, hugging her for a moment before she let go.

They left, then, with a very cordial goodbye. And Evie just sat there, on the old sofa. At least the place was furnished; that was one less concern. She wasn't sure how to feel now that she was all alone. Mainly she felt tired after the sleepless night. She felt physically sick, too, perhaps her body expressed the feelings she couldn't place. She hadn't had breakfast, so it might be a good idea to check that fridge for a sandwich. Her legs, however, felt like they weighed a thousand pounds each. When she finally managed to get up and drag herself to the kitchen, she attempted to give herself a peptalk.

"Come on Foxworth," she told herself. "You're more than some whimpering wench. Pull yourself together."

She was free. It was about time she started appreciating that. A clean slate. Thinking that alone should be inspiring enough, she inspected the fridge for something to eat. There was a variety of choices, and it seemed like the shopping had just been done. No rotten tomatoes or eggs. However; there was something about the smell that nauseated her. She could barely make it to the bathroom, where she threw up in the toilet: a painful experience considering just how empty her stomach was. She didn't put any meaning into it; it must be the nerves. She'd never been very good with change.  
Groaning softly she dragged herself up to drink water and clean up. Perhaps she should take it slowly today. Calm her nerves, and start small. A cup of tea. According to her mother, a cup of tea was enough to solve any crisis.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** What do you think so far? Drop me a review to let me know :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

The first fortnight in Evie's new home went by in a blur. At first she allowed herself a day or two to wallow in self-pity. If there was ever a time for that, it was most certainly now. She stayed in bed, mainly, and only got up to fulfil the most basic of human needs. After these two days, she was ready to make a change. She owed it to her family to make something of this new life she had been granted. She'd survived only because of a flash of sheer luck, although she had never felt less lucky. But she was sane enough to realise they would want her to live, rather than spend her days hiding under the blankets. And so she would do what she was educated to do: find a job. After forcing down some breakfast, Evie made herself go to the store to purchase some groceries and a newspaper. It seemed such a simple thing to do, but it cost her more energy than climbing a mountain. It was also very strange; for the past few weeks she had been locked up in Grimmauld Place, any step outside the door equal to risking her life. And now she could leave the house as often as she wanted without anyone raising an eyebrow. If only she wouldn't feel so sick all the time. In everything that was going on in her mind, she gladly put that thought away. Denial was really the best defence mechanism, at least for the time being.

Her Muggle education, formerly only useful for the more obvious reasons, now provided the necessary practical experiences too. She knew enough of Muggle customs to get her through daily life unnoticed. She knew how the public transport system worked, she knew their machines, and she knew how to dress. The Order had made sure she had a small sum of money to start up her new life appropriately. She bought some clothes, enjoying the variety of many Muggle stores. Wizards were much more traditional in their dress styles.

The newspaper did not contain any applicable job advertisements. That would have simply been too good to be true. Evie had been so lucky before, she feared she had used up all her luck for the rest of her life. Perhaps some _Felix Felicis_ would come in handy now, but that was out of the question. As was the use of her wand, which currently laid in her bottom sock drawer. She kept it for emergencies. Not all was lost, though. Hoping it might work to show some spirit, she decided to use her empty day to visit musical schools in the area to offer her services. She soon learned 'no' was a word Muggles did not fear to use. After trying four different schools she was ready to give up and conclude her costly, demanding studies would lead to nothing more than a job at the local supermarket. She forced herself, though, to go on and visit one more school two villages away. A job was a step too far, but after showing off her piano skills they were interested in making her a substitute teacher; apparently their current piano teacher was ripe for retirement and regularly ill. They couldn't promise her a lot of hours, but it was a very welcome start.

Every night when she was home and could think of no more sensible chore to do, her hands were itching to write to Sirius. A few days of being apart, and already she noticed just how much she missed him. He always knew just what to say when she was in one of her moods, and she loved hearing him talk of all his teenage adventures with the other Marauder boys. Most of all she missed falling asleep in his arms, enjoying the sense of safety and warmth he provided.

It did not take long for her to realise she was in dire need of a pregnancy test. By now her period was two weeks late; not unusual regarding the stress she had been through, but worrisome considering the recurrent waves of nausea that bothered her, compared with her persistent fatigue. She'd denied her symptoms for a while now, but when her period stayed out she could face nothing but the truth.

The instructions were clear. Disgusting, but clear. She would have to pee on a stick, and wait. Three minutes, and either one stripe (nothing wrong) or two stripes (pregnant) would appear. They were quite practical, these Muggles. Wizards had to visit a Healer to perform complicated magic to reveal a possible pregnancy. A lot less discrete.

These three minutes were quite possibly the longest of her life. The dreaded stick laid on the bathroom sink while Evie paced, counting down the seconds. Even when the minutes had long since passed, she did not dare look. It was funny which thoughts occurred to her in the short while. They went from herself with a desperately screaming baby, to visions of an excruciating labour during which she bled to death on her own. All terribly inspiring. She sighed deeply, wondering just how long she could put off counting stripes that would decide over her future. Of course she already knew the outcome. In all their hurry she and Sirius had not nearly always used a contraceptive potion. She was smart enough to add up the parts.

* * *

The alarm clock had rung very early that morning, but Isabelle had never minded it less. Her first thought that morning had been of the twins; in only a few hours the Hogwarts Express would take them home for their Christmas holidays.

The minutes had dragged on, and much too early she arrived on Platform 9 and ¾ to wait for the train to arrive. Luckily she was not the only one there. Wrapping her scarf more snugly around her neck against the cold, she studied the other parents. Mothers, mainly, and she suspected mothers of first year students. They alone would be so overly excited to come forty-five minutes early.  
It was quite cold; she started pacing to get warm. For a few minutes she left the platform to buy some coffee on the regular station, but she did not linger. She couldn't bear the thought of the train coming early and her not being there.

The twins had written to her during these first few months of the school year. Their stories were full of enthusiasm about Gryffindor house -the house they had been sorted into- and their new friends Zara Potter and Teddy Lupin. They wrote to her about their new teachers and subjects. Isabelle feared her children had never been the picture of obedience, so their teachers must have their hands full.

Even communicating by a piece of parchment was enough to see how much they loved Hogwarts and all it included. And she was glad for it. Her initial resistance based on her own experiences was slowly ebbing away. The twins were very different from her; they were flexible and optimistic, and most of all they had each other. It appeared she had judged the school too soon.

As the minutes ticked by agonizingly slow, the platform was steadily becoming more crowded as other parents started to arrive. Isabelle recognised Lucia Potter, Harry's wife, now so pregnant she looked about to pop. This time she was not accompanied by any other family members.

"Hello there," Isabelle said, heading over to her. She figured she might as well be forthcoming considering their children's friendship. "Are you excited for the children to come home?"

Lucia looked surprised, but then seemed to recognise her. "Oh, hello Isabelle. Yes, it'll be wonderful to have Zara home again. It looks like our children have become quite good friends," she smiled.

Isabelle nodded in agreement. "When are you due?" she inquired, referring to Lucia's baby bump.

"Ten days from now. I wouldn't be surprised if it starts early. That might be good, too, Zara will be able to spend some time with her new brother or sister before the new semester starts."

"That would be great," Isabelle smiled. She couldn't help but think back to the time of her own pregnancy with the twins. It was the loneliest time of her life. She couldn't imagine how different it would have been with family and friends around. With Sirius around. That would have certainly made all the difference.

"How is Harry?"

"Busy as usual," Lucia sighed. "He wanted to try and be here this morning, but something came up at the ministry. Something always does," she chuckled. "But the new plan is he comes home early for dinner. Teddy's joining us, too."

"Ah, yes." Isabelle had heard about Teddy from the twins. Remus and Tonks's son. He was only a month or two younger than the twins. If she'd stayed at the Order she could have shared her pregnancy with Tonks. It was so sad to think so many people she'd known in the Order had died. "Does he live with you and Harry?"

"Oh, no. Harry is his godfather, but he lives with his grandmother, who is also my aunt Andromeda." Lucia chuckled at the confused expression on Isabelle's face. "I know it sounds complicated. Teddy is coming home with us now, auntie's working a late shift at St Mungo's".

"I see." Complicated for sure. The wizarding world was small and everyone was related to everyone in some distant way. Isabelle had given up trying to understand all family dynamics a long time ago. "Hey, is that the train?" she stood on tiptoe to get a better view, and thought she saw something red approaching.

"Oh, it might well be!" Lucia exclaimed in delight. Isabelle was glad to see she was not the only one so excited at her children's return.

Steadily the Hogwarts Express slowed down speed until it came to rest on the platform, opening its doors to let out many excited children. Soon the place was very full of students running in all directions to find their families. They dragged along trunks, owl cages, and cats, all making an impressive amount of noise.

"Mum!"

Isabelle turned around at the sound of these two very familiar voices greeting her in unison. "Finally!" she gathered both Stella and Sebastian into her arms. She would have preferred to hug them longer, but quickly they withdrew. Of course; hugging your mother when you were as old as twelve was 'not cool'.

"I've missed you both so much!" she beamed, taking in each of their appearances to see how they were. They looked well, and both were smiling happily. It seemed they had grown quite a bit, too, especially Sebastian. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yes!" both of them exclaimed joyously. "We can make things float in the air, and we can turn a mouse into a cup!" Stella chattered. Sebastian hurried out of the way when Isabelle attempted to ruffle up his curls. Sometimes he reminded her of her little brother so much.

"That's great!" she smiled, turning around to see Lucia busy hugging both Zara and a brown-haired boy that must be Teddy Lupin. "Why don't you introduce me to your friends," she suggested then.

"You already know Zara," Stella said, "and that's Teddy."

"Hello Teddy," Isabelle smiled as she shook the boy's hand; he seemed a little shy. "It's lovely to meet you."

"Why don't you and the twins join us for dinner?" Lucia suggested. "Harry would love to see you again, too."

"Oh, I don't know," Isabelle pondered. "Won't that be too much trouble in your condition?"

"Now you sound like Harry," Lucia snorted. "That's all right, we have a house elf that cooks better than I ever could. It'll be fun for the children to see each other during their holidays, as well."

"That's true," she agreed. "All right, then, if you're sure you don't mind. But make sure to tell us when you're too tired."

She doubted Lucia was the type to admit such a thing, but the children's enthusiasm was inspiring enough to accept the invitation. They said their goodbyes and Isabelle promised the children some ice cream before they went home. It was a mystery why they wanted ice cream when it was about to snow outside, but she had missed them so much she just wanted to spoil them with anything they wanted. She gladly ordered them the biggest ice cream they could hold, and listened to all of their stories about Hogwarts.

"What are your teachers like?" she inquired.

"All right, I guess," Sebastian said, mainly focused on his ice cream "Professor Longbottom's head of Gryffindor. He looks a little goofy, but he's not so bad. He gave us an 'Acceptable' for our Herbology essays, Teddy reckons we were really lucky there."

"I'm not sure 'goofy' is the word you should use when a teacher is concerned, Seb," Isabelle said. She couldn't resist a chortle, though.

"Let's go," she said when they finished the ice cream. "We need to find a little gift to bring to Mrs Potter for having us over for dinner."

Normally she would bring a nice bottle of wine, but considering Lucia's pregnancy that didn't seem such a good idea. She didn't feel like searching for hours, either. That would be overdoing it. And besides, the twins were dragging their luggage along and she wanted to spend some time with them at home before they would head over to the Potters. Finally she selected a nice box of chocolates. She suspected Lucia was one of these women that didn't eat anything that might make them gain weight, but being so heavily pregnant a few chocolates to enjoy during her last few days before the delivery wouldn't do much harm. Isabelle herself had been so desperate with cravings she'd eaten anything.

The rest of the afternoon was enjoyed at home, and at six o'clock sharp the three of them arrived on the Potters' doorstep. On time, which was miraculous. What the twins had definitely inherited from her was the inability to be on time. Ever. Only with very special effort could they manage, and only when they aimed to be at least fifteen minutes early. Today was a good day in that regard. Isabelle had even gotten Stella to brush her hair. The girl had the same unruly curls as her father had had. Beautiful, considered by the not unbiased mother, but a challenge to get it to behave. Especially considering the fact Stella refused a pair of scissors to even come near her hair.

The door was opened by a brightly smiling little elf, and they followed it into the hallway. The Potters appeared to have done well for themselves. Their house in Gryffindor's Hollow was of more than adequate size, the garden well-groomed, and a first glance at the interior showed an amount of luxury that was impressive, but not enough to rid the house of a homey ambiance.

Not long after the elf had let them into the sitting room, Lucia hurried in to welcome them. She was surprisingly active for someone nearly due to give birth.

"Hello, it's wonderful to see you all here!" she beamed. "I see Kreacher let you in. Are you excited to be home for the Christmas holidays?" she asked the twins.

Isabelle could only hope the twins would show some manners tonight. She had attempted to teach them, but she had just never been able to set a lot of rules for them. Sirius had told her how traumatized he had been by his own strict Pureblood upbringing, and she herself was hardly a fan of that either. While her own parents may not have been as dreadful as Mrs Black, Isabelle had always told herself she would do things differently. Most of all she had wanted her children to feel loved and happy. Their upbringing was full of creativity and music, games and laughter. From a very early age on she had noticed her children were blessed with the stubborn and fiery spirit of their father –and perhaps their mother-. They had a mind of their own, and whenever they disagreed with anything they felt the need to express it. While these were in itself qualities Isabelle had no problem with –nothing was worse than individuals without opinions of their own- it could be bothersome in the company of others that had entirely different ideas of how children should behave. Fortunately the twins often surprised her with impeccable behaviour in front of others.

Soon they were joined by Zara and Teddy. They had been upstairs, and were roused by the sound of voices indicated their friends had arrived.

"Why don't you go up and show Stella and Sebastian your room?" Lucia suggested to her daughter. She need not say that twice; the children were undoubtedly more than eager to get away from the adults. The four of them hurried up the stairs, leaving the two women alone.

"You really have a lovely house," Isabelle complimented Lucia.

"Thank you!" she beamed. "We only bought it a year or two ago after Harry's latest promotion at the Auror office. We basically lived in a shack before that," she laughed.

Isabelle returned the grin politely, although she suspected they had different definitions of 'a shack'. "So is Harry not home yet?"

"I'm afraid not," Lucia sighed, showing the way into the kitchen area, where she poured drinks. Pumpkin juice for herself. Isabelle would never say no to a glass of wine. "He just sent word. It won't be long now, but they're just finishing up a case."

Isabelle gladly accepted the red wine and sipped it, looking around the spacious kitchen area. Kreacher was busy boiling some sort of stew that smelled delicious.

"I remember Kreacher," she suddenly said. The little elf had looked familiar the moment he opened the door, but now that she had heard his name the picture was complete.

"Kreacher has been with us for a very long time," Lucia smiled gently. "Once he belonged to my mother's aunt. He served the house for a long time even after she was gone."

"Grimmauld Place 12," Isabelle said. The elf in her memory was much grumpier than this helpful, happy Kreacher. It all made more sense, though. Lucia had looked familiar as well, but she wasn't sure where she had met her before. She hadn't been in the Order at the time, certainly.

"So now you inherited Kreacher?" she frowned. Her own family had never owned a house elf. Usually they were passed down per generation, living in ancient wizarding dynasties. Her mother had eloped from France to England with her father, losing all right to any family possessions, especially the house elf.

"Actually, Harry did. Sirius owned Grimmauld Place, and when he passed away, Harry as his godson was the closest thing he had to an heir."

"Except he wasn't."

'No," Lucia agreed. "But we didn't know that at the time. Harry's really been wondering, you know. Why you didn't come back after the war. It must have been so hard on your own, with two babies. I thought one baby was a challenge when I had Zara, and then I had Harry around to help me."

There was a reason why Isabelle had not come back, and there was a reason why she had been so reluctant to become reacquainted with people from the past. She didn't like to dwell on what happened a long time ago. And certainly not when it sounded like she had to defend herself for choices made influenced by a lot of grief, and a lot of hormones. Admittedly, Lucia did not sound offensive. Which was a surprise, and a relief.

"So you're related to the House of Black?" she inquired, gladly returning to the original subject.

Lucia nodded. "My mother was born a Black. She became a Malfoy when she married my father, but Kreacher was always loyal to our House. It seems only right he lives with us now. Through Grimmauld Place Kreacher is devoted to Harry, and through the family to me. But really he's bound to us by much more than a bloodline. We treat him with respect, and the children love him too. He really is part of the family."

"That's wonderful to hear." Isabelle watched Kreacher, who engaged himself in preparing the stew, but she thought she noticed a blush creeping all the way up to his pointy ears. "So you're a Malfoy?" That was why she had looked so familiar. When she was younger Isabelle was dragged to all the balls and festivities hosted by the Malfoys; her father had served them as a Healer for years. Lucia had been a child at the time, so her looks had changed, and one just wouldn't expect a Malfoy being Harry Potter's wife.

"According to Hermione it's the very least we can do to keep things acceptable," Lucia grinned, leading them back to the sitting room where they sat down on the sofa. "And yes, although I like to say I'm a Potter now."

From the upstairs floor came the sounds of laughing children. Isabelle took another sip of her wine, relaxing more now that she was sure the children were having fun. "Are you sure you're feeling all right?" she asked, noticing Lucia's complexion had paled somewhat. It was impressive, considering it was nearly ivory to begin with. Maybe she wasn't the only one that didn't like to talk about the past.

"I'm fine," Lucia assured her. "You should tell me more about yourself. All I know is what Harry told me and that's all happened over twelve years ago. Have you married anyone?"

"Oh, no," Isabelle quickly said. The idea of marriage had never lost the horrified image of her youth; that it would bind her to some narrow-minded Pureblood individual that would rob her of any sense of self worth she had. It happened to all these ladies her mother dragged along. As soon as there was a ring on their finger they became needy creatures depending on their husbands. She had even seen it with the Muggle friends she had gained throughout the years. She wasn't going to tell Lucia that, though. She seemed happy enough with Harry. And who knows; maybe she would have married Sirius, if things had turned out differently. "There were some candidates, but never an actual marriage. I like it that way."

"How interesting."

She doubted Lucia could understand, but perhaps she ought to give her the benefit of the doubt. She looked more spontaneous and welcoming than any Pureblood lady she had ever met. It was time to let go of old prejudices.

"Then you must really tell me," Lucia grinned, "how you managed to raise twins on your own! And without magic, too!"

"It might surprise you how inventive Muggles get," Isabelle chuckled. "And really it wasn't so-" she cut off her words in shock. "You're bleeding."

Lucia looked confused at first, but then followed Isabelle's glance down to her stomach. And indeed, a bloodstain was steadily spreading to soak the front of her dress. The house was eerily quiet after she dropped her glass of pumpkin juice while she cried out in shock, the sound of glass shattering in hundreds of pieces. It all happened so fast; one moment everything was fine, the next a pool of blood was soaking the white carpet.

"What's happening.." Isabelle stammered in shock. She reached for Lucia's hand, and Lucia grabbed it. It was the last thing she did before she fainted, leaving Isabelle with a lot of chaos and the sound of children hurrying down the stairs to see what all the noise was about.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

What was destined to be a lovely dinner party, quickly turned into a blood bath. While Lucia laid unconscious, Isabelle watched with horror as blood continued to flow. There was the urge to become rigid and freeze at the incredibility of the situation, but the sound of the children running down the stairs provided no room for that. She had to man up and take charge. Lucia had to get to St. Mungo's, as quickly as possible.

"What's wrong with Mummy?"

She had hoped Felicia, the youngest Potter child, was still at her little friend's birthday party. She must have come home before, and been upstairs the whole time. Isabelle cursed inwardly, panicking at the thought of where to leave the children, and how she was supposed to get Lucia to the hospital. Wizards didn't use phones or ambulances. They had far easier ways to transport themselves; ways Isabelle had not used for years, and wasn't sure she was still capable of performing.

"Mummy's not feeling well," she said, forcing her voice to sound calm. It still trembled, but at least she wasn't crying. "She just needs to go to the hospital where the Healers can help her."

This was a disaster no matter what; the little girl was crying already, and the other four looked like they had yet to realise what was really going on. She had to act fast. Of course. Kreacher!

"Kreacher! " she cried out.

Quickly the little elf came rushing into the room. He took one look at the scene and visibly panicked, pacing back and forth while covering his large eyeballs with his tiny fists.

"Kreacher!" Isabelle cried again, sharply now. The tendency to join the little elf in panic was tempting, but she had to think of Lucia, and the children. "We need to get Mrs Potter to the hospital as quickly as possible. I'm not sure I can apparate, I'm afraid I would splinch her.." And the baby. If it wasn't too late yet. But she didn't say that out loud. "Could you?"

The little elf nodded his little head vigorously. "Kreacher can apparate." He moved about the room still, not aiming to be very active just yet by the looks of it.

"Now, Kreacher!" she pressed on.

Finally he seemed to understand what was requested. Quickly he hurried over to the still unconscious Lucia and held onto her as he turned on the spot and disappeared with her.

Isabelle let out a sigh of relief. It wouldn't be long now before the Healers could help Lucia and the baby. The children, however, were still staring at her, all wide-eyed and very pale. She couldn't afford to break down now. For their sake things had to go on as normal as possible. The smell of dinner coming from the kitchen had seemed so delicious at first, but now the mere smell of food was enough to nauseate her.

"Okay kids, let's wait until we hear news from Kreacher, all right? I'm sure your mum's going to be all right again in no time." She went to give Felicia a hug, but the little girl wrapped her arms around her so tightly she decided to pick her up and hold her close to her. "Let's see if that dinner is ready."

"I don't think we're really hungry," Zara said. She looked so serious; her eyes wide, clearly not ready to be fooled by some excuse. Her little sister might buy that, but she was eleven.

"I know sweetheart," Isabelle said quietly. "None of us are. But there's nothing else we can do right now. Time will pass a little faster when we have something to do."

Her heart was still beating fast when she lead the kids to the table already set for dinner. She got Felicia to sit on the chair next to hers, and hurried to the kitchen to fetch the stew. It was still hot; prepared only minutes ago when everything was still right.

When she had the dinner on the table and everyone's plates filled, she stood up. "I'm just going to send word to your father, all right? I'll be right back."

She left the children in eerie silence while she went into the kitchen to think over her options. It was easier in here without their worried eyes on her. Her options seemed limited. An owl would be much too slow. She could try the Floo network, but she didn't want to leave the children alone. Also; the ministry was huge and she feared she would get lost there so it still wouldn't be a fast way to reach Harry. A Patronus, then. Quite the challenge. She had been able to conjure up a Patronus in her last year of Beauxbatons. It had taken her a lot of practise, though, and even then it had been one so feeble it barely got her an acceptable grade. Apparently everything in this world was a challenge to her. And there was no time for a challenge. Who knew how long it might take for Harry to get home, and he really needed to be with his wife right now.

"Zara," she said, going back into the living room, where they all sat with their untouched plates in front of them. "Could I borrow your wand?"

"Sure," she replied, sounding surprised. "But it's upstairs. We're not supposed to do underage magic at home."

"Of course." She waited while Zara rushed upstairs to fetch her wand.

"Are you going to do magic, mum?" Stella inquired.

"It appears so," Isabelle said, forcing a smile.

"Can you do it?".

She took the wand from Zara when she returned with it. "Of course I can." Let's hope her expressed confidence worked like a self-fulfilling prophecy. "Just get back to your dinners," she suggested, as if they had been interested in their dinners to begin with.

Isabelle retreated to the kitchen, this time highly intent on what she was doing. "Expecto Patronum!"  
The wisp of smoke that came from the wand was hardly inspiring. But at least something happened. She hadn't turned into a squib just yet. All she needed was some practise. And a memory happy enough to concentrate on. There were many things that might qualify. Her latest new piano student showing remarkable talent. The twins coming home full of delightful stories of their happiness. A promising date; the first in a long time. There were certainly benefits to the children starting Hogwarts, even if she would never say that out loud.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Another wisp of smoke. Was it stronger this time, or was that just wishful thinking? Probably the latter, but she couldn't give up. Again. A new memory. Something stronger. The twins birth? Perhaps that was too cliché. Did a wand even know what a cliché was? Maybe something about Sirius. Sometimes she could still feel that old glow of happiness when she thought of him. When she thought of what he would think of the twins. How wonderful and beautiful they were. And what would he think now if he saw her with Harry's family? That would add up all the parts.

"Expecto Patronum!".

The shock at her success was so great Isabelle nearly fell over at the appearance of a friendly silver dog. There it was. A Patronus. A solid, actual Patronus. Even though it was staring her in the face, she still did not believe she had conjured it. She quickly instructed it which words to bring over to Harry, telling him to get to St. Mungo's as soon as possible.

Another bit of relief washed over her at this accomplishment. Relief making room for worry over Lucia's condition. Apart from her own experience she was no authority when it came to pregnancies. Her own had been relatively uncomplicated, considering it was a twin pregnancy, and that was about where her skill stopped. She knew bleedings could occur, she had had one herself in the first trimester, but this had been extreme. The bloodstains on the carpet still stared at her when she re-entered the living area.

"Did you manage?" Zara inquired immediately.

"Yes," she assured her. "Your father will be on his way as soon as he gets the message."

"We're not hungry anymore," Felicia announced.

"That's all right," Isabelle smiled and reached out to tuck a strand of the little girl's hair behind her ear. "We'll save some for Daddy when he gets home."

In the hour that followed, Isabelle did anything to keep busy. She did the dishes – by hand-, tried to ease the children's' worries, and then tried to work out how to clean the carpet. She couldn't find any carpet cleaner in the Potters' cupboards; no wonder, they probably used magic for everything. She was still sat on her knees when they heard the telltale ! _Crack_ of someone apparating in.

"Daddy!" both Zara and Felicia exclaimed, running over to both cling to one of Harry's arms.

Harry lifted them both up to kiss each daughter on the top of their head. Isabelle noticed from the last time she had seen him he appeared to have aged ten years.

"How is Mum?" they asked in unison.

"She's going to be all right," Harry assured them, putting them down carefully. He ruffled up Teddy's hair when he joined them too. "But I need to get back, I'm just here to get some of her stuff, and to see how you all were."

"Do you need some help with that?" Isabelle sensed from the tense expression on Harry's face that he had told the kids' version of the truth only.

"Yes, please," Harry nodded. "You all be good and stay here, all right? We'll be right back."

"What happened? Is she all right?" Isabelle asked once they had arrived upstairs in what must be Harry and Lucia's bedroom. Everything was spic and span; she'd been right thinking Lucia was a bit of a control freak. She must be if she descended from the Malfoy family.

"It was a tear in the placenta that gave way, apparently," Harry sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "She got there just in time, they reckon she might have bled to death otherwise." He shivered visibly.

"And the baby?" Isabelle whispered. She almost didn't dare ask.

He shook his head. "There was little they could do."

"Harry, I'm so sorry..." devastated, she sat down next to him. Harry had been through so much already, he deserved all the happiness he could get. Not this.

"Thanks," he hid his face in his hands, so lost it seemed wrong to disturb him. "It was a boy. We wanted to name him James.. James Sirius."

"That's a wonderful name," she whispered, rubbing his back gently. "How is Lucia?"

"She's sleeping. They say she'll be all right, physically. I'm not too sure about the rest of her," he grimaced, standing up to fetch a bag to collect some of her stuff in. "Somehow she got this crazy idea in her head that I needed to have a son. I would've been happy either way," he shook his head.

"Of course you would."

"I should get back," he finally decided. "Lucie and I are both really grateful for your help, Evie. I mean Isabelle," Harry corrected himself.

"It's okay," she smiled slightly. "Old habits die hard. And I didn't do much. "

"You were there. Otherwise who knows how long it have taken before Lucie was found. Kreacher hears nothing when he's cooking. He's getting old," he gave another small smile that never reached his eyes, picking up the bag with Lucia's clothes and toiletries. "I understand if you need to get home. I can get Hermione to come watch the kids, or my brother- and sister-in-law."

"Oh no," she quickly assured him. "I'm glad to be of help, to be honest. I'll stay with Teddy and the girls as long as necessary."

Harry nodded, heading down the stairs. "I'll just say goodbye to the children and then I'll head back. I have no idea how long I'll be; until they send me away I guess."

"I really don't mind." Isabelle followed him down the stairs. The children had all gathered on the sofa in front of the fireplace. The older children were chatting with their heads together, only looking up when Harry re-entered. Little Felicia had fallen asleep against her older sister's shoulder.

While Harry spoke to them, Isabelle went into the kitchen to make tea for herself and hot chocolate for the children. She doubted they would all be able to sleep, but at least they would have something warm in their stomachs. Checking the cupboards for mugs and teaspoons, she realised just how strange the whole situation was. Poor Harry. And poor Lucia. Why on earth did this have to happen?

"Mummy?"

She turned to see the twins enter the kitchen. "Mr Potter is talking to Zara and Teddy."

"Oh yes. You're all being so good. It's great that you can support your friends right now." She spread her arms to hug both of her children to her. She breathed in their scents and stroked their beautiful curls. She was so lucky to have them. Luckier than she could ever realise.

As strange as it sounded considering the circumstances, it appeared pregnancy was highly becoming to Evie. Her hair was thicker and shiny, her skin flawless, and despite everything she simply could not stop smiling. New life brought new hope. Nine months was a very long time to wait; by then the whole world could be different. You-Know-Who might be dead, and she could go back to Sirius. In the mean time she could handle everything just fine. She used her new name, but didn't lose the old one. In her heart she was still Evie Foxworth, waiting until the time would come for her to claim it as her own again.

By now there was another musical school in the area that hired her for a substitute teacher. With the two jobs combined she made just enough to pay rent and everything else she needed. It wasn't much; but she didn't need much luxuries anyway. She was safe, and resting in the knowledge that it was all just temporary. It was a challenge not to write to Sirius, though. Emergencies only, they had said. Some might consider this situation an emergency. A change of plans that would completely rectify a return to the Order. And perhaps it did. But it was also a great opportunity. Now the baby could be safe. A very different kind of safe than it would be hiding in Grimmauld Place. She could go wherever she wanted, get the necessary prenatal checkups by a Muggle obstetrician, and should the war still rage when the baby was born, then she would be able to go outside for walks without any trouble. Hopefully it would be over by then, but she had to be prepared for all sort of things. As long as Sirius would be all right.

It wasn't an ideal scenario, of course. She had only known Sirius for a few weeks, and a passionate romance was not always ground for a steady long relationship. But it had felt right. Righter than with anyone else. Evie got the feeling he would want the baby, too. He was a great godfather to Harry. There were all the ingredients that told her he would make a wonderful father.

Everything changed one evening. It was early summer, and Evie was three months pregnant. To her great surprise she was already showing. Not enough for anyone to notice under her carefully selected clothes, but clearly noticeable to herself. She was proud of that little beginning baby bump, realising full well in a few months time it could get really in the way. She would see about that, then. The promise of having another family after everything she lost meant a great deal to her.

Having just come home from a full day of teaching, she laid on the sofa reading a book when there was a noise disturbing her. It came from the window by the kitchen; an ominous ticking sound.  
"Hello?" Evie jumped up and cautiously made her way there to see what was going on.

To her great surprise it was an owl tapping its beak against the glass to be let in. An owl. That could either mean very good news, or very bad.

With trembling hands Evie opened the window and let the owl in, carefully untying the letter from its beak so that she could read what it said.

" _Evie,_

 _We regret very much to inform you of Sirius's death. The agreement must go on as before. Do not contact us unless there is an emergency._

 _The Order of the Phoenix."_

That was it? A note? A few words hastily scribbled on a piece of paper? Barely an explanation? Evie sank down onto the floor, her legs giving way before she could make it back to the sofa. Sirius couldn't be dead. They were having a child together. She needed him. After the war, he'd promised, they would reunite. He couldn't be dead.

She sat there for a long time trying to convince herself this was all a lie. Mostly she wanted to grab her wand and apparate right over to Grimmauld Place 12 to see with her own eyes whether this was true. Her baby's life was at stake, though, she had enough sense to realise the importance of that. At some point during that night she dragged herself to bed, but it was needless to say she couldn't sleep. Over and over she thought how everyone she cared about died.

By the time the alarm clock rang she looked like a zombie. With bags under her eyes, a nearly grey complexion, and limbs feeling like lead, she dragged herself to work. She had considered staying at home, but automatically she got herself dressed and headed out to catch the bus to the school. Deep down she knew the key to staying alive was keeping busy. Any form of distraction was good enough. She could pretend nothing was wrong.

"Morning Isabelle," said one of her colleagues. She barely heard which one, nodding and murmuring a distant hello before she dragged herself to the coffee machine.

"Everything all right?"

It was Mary Charleston, one of the younger violin teachers Evie had joined for a drink once after work. She was nice, had talked a lot about her three children, but right now all Evie wanted was to be left alone.

"Yea." Evie felt so faint holding her coffee was a challenge. If she could just get to her classroom, then she could sit down, and hopefully wait until she was better before her first student would arrive.

"Are you sure?"

No, she certainly wasn't, but what was she supposed to say? They all thought she was a happy young single, enjoying the recently started post-graduation life.

"Isabelle, you're bleeding," Mary suddenly exclaimed in shock. Evie followed her stare, noticing a blood stain increasing in size in the front of her dress. Oh no. The baby.

"You should sit down," Mary helped her over to a chair as Evie trembled. "Are you pregnant?"

She wanted to say something. Deny it, maybe, in case it would cost her the job. Or agree and admit how worried she was about losing it. Whenever she opened her mouth, her throat felt so tight with fear no words came out. Only tears. A waterfall of hot tears spilling down her face.

"Oh dear," Mary wrapped her arms around her gently. "Don't worry, it's going to be okay, all right? We should get you to a doctor. You'll be fine. It happens sometimes in the beginning, it doesn't have to mean anything."

Trembling like a leaf, Evie followed Mary outside to her car. They drove to the emergency room in silence, Mary making a few calls to explain where they went for when their students would miss them.

When they got inside Evie found the blood had increased more, heightening her very upset state yet further. The nurses luckily understood the seriousness of the situation, for she was transferred to an examination room immediately. Only when she laid on the examination table did she allow herself to relax somewhat. At least she was in good hands now; the doctors would tell her how the baby was. If there still was a baby. New tears. She –needed- this baby. If she couldn't have Sirius, then let her at least have his child. It was all she had left.

"What's your name dear?" the nurse asked, closing the curtain to shield them from the other patients.

"Isabelle," she whispered, for whatever had been left of Evie Foxworth was entirely gone. "Isabelle Harris."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** What do you guys think so far? Review and let me know :) You may have to wait a tiny bit longer for my next update, as I am currently participating in NaNoWriMo with an original fiction story. So I have few fingers left to type anything else during that. But I'm always open for reviews/questions/comments . Hope to see you all next chapter!


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